Slytherin: Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone
by Axenome
Summary: The Riddle: How much can a rip in a bag of money change? Answer: Everything. Slytherin! Harry, trying to keep this as close to the spirit of the story as I possibly can, and treat the characters as fairly as I am able. Slytherin Haters beware, this story is not for you.
1. 1: Journey to Platform 9 and 3 quarters

UPDATE: Added in the requisite disclaimer.

**Disclaimer: **As noted by the website on which this story is posted, this is a work of fanfiction. By definition, this means that licensing writes, ownership, and therefore profitable application do not belong to me, but rather to the original creator of the foundation story from which this tale is drawn, specifically, Ms. J. .

No profit is made from this story, and any implication otherwise is silly. Litigation will result in wasted time and no money, being as I don't have any. Read this story in the recreational intent and tribute to the original that it is intended.

* * *

_Timing is everything. What if Harry hadn't had such a dim view of Slytherins when he went under the sorting cap? What if he'd missed any real interaction with Malfoy in Diagon Alley?_

_What if?_

Unbeknownst to an eleven year old Harry Potter, blinking in the sunlight outside of Gringott's bank, the sack which he'd been given to carry the galleons with which he'd purchase his materials for his first term in Hogwarts was wearing thin. It was one of Hagrid's, after all, and while the burly gamekeeper was noble of heart and loyal as a beagle, every once in a while his attention to detail was less than perfect. Not fifteen feet from the cart to Gringotts, the weak point in the sack chose to give way, and about four hundred fifty galleons spilled across the hard packed dirt.

"Blimey! I'm sorry, Harry! Reckon I should've paid more care to that sack," he muttered.

"It's alright, Hagrid. I appreciate everything you've done for me so far, and I wouldn't have had even this much without you."

"Well, least I can do is ter help yeh pick it up," Hagrid temporized, as with a subtle gesture- or as subtle as one can be waving an umbrella- he mended the rip in the bottom of the all but empty sack. It took the pair of them several minutes to collect the scattered gold coins, a few of which had rolled rather far. Harry walked over to one last glint in the dust, only to stop as he realized it was next to the felt shoe of someone standing next to it. Looking up, Harry noticed a pale skinned boy with narrow, almost pointed features eyeing him with interest. "Dropped something, did you?" the boy asked with a cool, almost mocking air.

Harry blinked at him. "Ah, yes. Didn't realize there was a weak spot in my money bag- think I might have overloaded it a bit."

The boy gave a slight glance at the bag in Harry's hands, eyes flicking then to Hagrid which stood behind him a few feet, before finally focusing on Harry again. "Yes, that can be a bit of a problem when out shopping, Hmm?" the boy commented airily. "Of course, I tend to-"

"Draco," a woman said reprovingly from nearby. Her figure were slender, but rather elegant, her features pretty, despite the slight lines that began to make way on her face. Her hair was a pale blonde, almost wintery, and well in keeping with her equally pale skin. Her voice was cool and her tone aloof, but affection for the boy crept in around the edges all the same. "I think it's high time that we moved on, yes? I believe there are a few more books on your list of required texts for the upcoming school year."

"Yes, Mother." The boy turned his head back to Harry for a second before the shadow of a smile- or was it a smirk?- ghosted across his mouth. "Suppose that I'll see you in school, then."

Harry watched after the pair in puzzlement, not noticing Hagrid's clear disapproving gaze. "Eh, er, well then, Harry, bein' as we're 'ere an all, may as well get yer robes then, eh?"

Harry looked over at the nearest building, the one in which the boy named Draco had emerged from, and took note of the placard that read, "Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions."

Twenty minutes later, Hagrid had nipped off somewhere, saying something about needing something from the Leaky Cauldron to settle himself after that cart ride from Gringotts, and left him to get fitted for his robes. The process had been rather different from what he'd expected, although it'd started out much the same as any tailor or seamstress in the Muggle world, standing on a stool as the artisan in question pinned hems and tucked seams. Once the correct proportions had been made, however, it was several elaborate waves of a long tapered wand from the zaftig woman, and spooled thread wove its way into neat, almost ornate hemstitches. Bare minutes later, a final wave of the wand knotted the thread flush in the inner lining of the last robe, and a tap from the end separated the hemstitch from the spooled thread remaining with a tiny wisp of smoke. Harry stepped down, and paid the requisite amount inexpertly before packing away the robes into his bag. Almost as an afterthought, he selected a wide brimmed, pointed black hat that Madam Malkin assured him was both stylish and fit into the stated dress code put forth by Hogwarts. Stepping out back into the street, he almost ran up short against Hagrid, who was clutching two ice cream cups, chocolate and raspberry as he would discover, and sprinkled with crushed nuts. A stray splatter of raspberry hit Harry's shirt.

"Eh, we'd best get that cleaned up early 'fore it 'as a chance ter stain," Hagrid said, before a light hit behind his eyes. "Oh, right! Dumbledore'd tol' me I'd need ter remind yeh ter be at the station early on the first o' September."

"Station? First of September?" Harry asked, at a loss.

"Right!" Hagrid reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, handing it to Harry. "I'd meant to give yeh this later on, but almost fergot about it til yeh reminded me. Best I give you this now while it's on me mind."

"Oh. Uh, what is it?" Harry asked, opening the envelope and peering inside.

"Yer ticket, o' course! Fer the Hogwart's Express!" Hagrid said. "King's Cross Station, platform nine an' three quarters, eleven o'clock, all o' that's on the ticket as yer can see. As I said b'fore, though, yeh'll want ter get there early. Always best ter be early, in case yeh run late."

"Right."

**Axenome Presents: Slytherin**

**Book One: Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone**

**Chapter One: "The (Early) Journey to and from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters" or "Timing is Everything"**

On the last day of August, Harry thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about how he was getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went downstairs to where they were watching television. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there; Dudley caught sight of him, screamed, and ran from the room, his curled piggy tail poking out comically from the back of his shorts.

"Er- Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er- I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to- to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted a second time.

"Would it be alright if you- er, gave me a lift?"

Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

He was about to go back upstairs when Vernon spoke up. "Funny way to get to a wizard's school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"Where is this so called school, anyway?"

"I don't know," Harry answered, puzzled for a moment, still thinking on the magic carpets bit. "But if they do use magic carpets, I suppose this is what I have to do to learn to ride them, or something."

"What? What's that got to do with where the school is?" Vernon asked, looking away from the telly for the first time since Harry had come down.

"Uh- no, I meant about your first question, uncle." Harry felt like the conversation was getting more bizarre by the second- not that this whole issue hadn't been bizarre since it all began. "I don't really know where it is, I just take the train on platform nine and three quarters at e- er, ten." Harry caught himself before saying "eleven o'clock," remembering Hagrid's admonishment a month ago to get there early.

Aunt Petunia's incredulous stare joined Vernon's. After a moment, Vernon said, "Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," Uncle Vernon said. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"That's what it says on my ticket."

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. Alright, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to get that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

* * *

Harry woke at five the next morning, too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn't want to go the the train station in his wizarding robes- he'd change on the train. He checked his Hogwarts list again to make sure he had everything he needed, checked to make sure Hedwig's cage was secure, then paced his room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. He hadn't long to wait; Aunt Petunia had convinced Uncle Vernon that getting him to the station "on time" would get him out of their hair all the sooner, and barely an hour later they'd packed Harry's trunk into the Dursley's car, and set off.

Uncle Vernon had spent much of the car trip singing softly to himself that "We're shut of him til next summer" or, when not actively saying the words, humming the identical tune. They reached King's Cross at nine fifteen; Harry noted in passing that morning traffic was picking up behind them, and the going would likely have been slower had they set out later. Uncle Vernon even went so far as to dump Harry's trunk onto a cart for him and wheel it into the station; Harry thought this uncharacteristically kind of him until Uncle Vernon stopped dead facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well there you are, boy, platform nine, platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle- but they don't seem to have built it yet, hmm?"

Harry looked over at the platforms with dismay- a plastic sign reading "9" next to one platform, then at the next platform, one reading "10," and between them, nothing at all but a blank wall.

"Ah well, I suppose they have another forty five minutes to construct it before you need to use it, hmm? Have a nice term!" Uncle Vernon delivered as a parting shot, before strolling off jauntily without another word. Harry watched them all drive away- from where he stood, it suspiciously appeared they were laughing at him as they left. He was about to ask a guard when he noticed a boy lugging a wheeled trunk behind him with- of all things- a toad in a small wire cage. The boy, the cage, and the trunk all seemed to be completely ignored by the people passing by as he calmly walked straight into the empty wall between platforms nine and ten- and then vanished.

Harry looked around furtively, but it appeared nobody seemed to have noticed the boy or his odd pet.

Glancing down at the cage holding Hedwig, who was starting to get restless, Harry suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out the creased and wrinkled list from Hogwarts. His eyes skimmed the list until they found, at the end, the passage he was looking for: "Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad."

For the next fifteen minutes he kept a sharp eye out, and spotted two more passenger groups who were clearly bound for Hogwarts- and as surreptitiously as possible followed along behind the second cluster, a pair of aristocratic looking young teens carrying caged owls who for some reason were attracting no attention despite the odd animals. Bracing himself, he followed along behind them, staying exactly three feet back, as they walked straight into the wall. Then suddenly, past the pair in front of him, he saw a platform, with a grey steam engine sitting at it, plain passenger cars trailing behind it, and a sign reading "Durmstrang Eilbeförderung, 9:45"

"Eye-ul... Ailfer..." Harry stumbled, trying to sound out the word, although he was sure even if he'd pronounced it correctly, he had no idea what it meant.

"Eilbeförderung." Said a voice to his left. Looking towards it, Harry saw a young man in official looking robes- or if not official, at least appearing to be a uniform of some sort. "It's German- means something along the lines of a system for rapidly transiting persons or parcels. May I see your ticket?" Harry noted in passing that the pair he'd been trailing had broken into a run, apparently concerned that they would miss their train.

"Ah..." Harry began awkwardly, handing his ticket to the man, "I thought the Hogwarts Express was at this platform?"

"It will be, in about twenty five minutes," the man absently answered, looking at the ticket cursorily before handing it back to him. "Here a bit early, aren't you?"

"Well, I figured it was better to be early than late. No accounting for what might happen, right?" Harry said hopefully.

The young man cocked his head slightly to the side, before responding, "Planning ahead is always a good idea. And you're quite right, because you never know what might happen. But since you're so early, why aren't your parents here waiting with you?"

Harry looked to the side, slightly embaressed. "My, ah, parents are dead."

"Ah. That's rather unfortunate." There was a pause, then, "Were they wizarding folk or Muggles?"

"What? Uh, wizards, I'm told."

The man gave a slightly satisfied nod. "I see. This all seems very new to you, all the same- muggle raised?"

Harry started to feel slightly uncomfortable. "Uh, yes. By my aunt and uncle, the Dursleys."

"Hmmm. Must've been difficult. A lot of Muggle families don't do well with wizarding relatives, especially raising a wizard or witch when they've no powers of their own. Strange situation, but it happens from time to time, regardless of what some of the older families might think of it. What's your name?"

Harry winced a little, remembering the reaction his name had gotten back in the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley. "H-Harry. Um, Harry Potter."

The young man's eyebrows lifted slightly in recognition of the name. "Really? The-Boy-Who-Lived? That Harry Potter?"

Harry frowned slightly. "Um, yeah. That one."

"You're a bit of a celebrity here. But if you don't mind my mentioning it, you might want to keep quiet about your aunt and uncle while you're among wizarding folk." Behind him, two sharp blasts of steam accompanied a low whistle from the "Durmstrang Eilbeförderung." Doors slid shut with the clacking noise of securing bolts, and barely a half minute later the pace of the puffing steam and chugging pistons accelerated as the grey engine slowly picked up speed, departing the station. Harry hadn't noticed how much background noise the engine had been making until it started to fade away into the distance. In the relative quiet, the young man said in a lower voice, "You-know-who may be gone, but that doesn't mean everyone that was under him actually walked to the other side of the quidditch pitch."

"Er, what?" Harry asked, confused by the unfamiliar analogy.

"Yes, definitely Muggle raised. Look, why don't you come and have a cup of tea with me?" Harry's stomach chose this moment to growl audibly. The young man almost smiled, and said, "and perhaps a bit of toast as well."

"Sure, I suppose." Harry paused, then asked, "Uh, what's your name?"

"Albany, Albany Nott."

* * *

Albany Nott was hard for Harry to define. He was friendly, as evidenced by purchasing a very light breakfast for Harry, not merely the tea and toast he'd suggested, but had a great many questions. He was clearly quite clever, and his questions seemed to dig uncomfortably close at times. In exchange, Albany spoke about himself a bit, being an alumni of Hogwarts and had stopped training as an auror- whatever that was- after barely a year, instead contenting himself with working as a security guard here at the train station. In his family's eyes it was something of a step down, he noted, but he himself thought of it as a step up in importance. An auror, he explained, was tasked with the whole of magical Britain, but here at station nine and three-quarters, his job was very specific: the security of magical Britain's future, the children going away to school. "Besides," he added as almost an afterthought, "if I'd been an auror, I imagine I'd never have had the chance to meet you here today, eh?"

Harry had to admit that he was probably right- although, Albany would know more about that sort of thing than he himself would.

"So, Harry, have you given any thought as to what house you hope to be sorted into?" He asked, biting off a bit of the biscuits he'd bought for himself rather than an actual breakfast.

"House?" Harry asked.

"Haven't read up the information on the school yet, have you?" Albany's expression shifted slightly, still friendly, but now with an undertone of disapproval. "One of the most important parts of planning ahead is basing your plans off of what information is available. Not much good to you if you don't bother to find out what that information is."

"Well, alright then, can you at least tell me what the houses are?"

"The houses are a lot, actually." Albany sipped the last bit of tea from his mug, then refilled it from the pot on the table. A twist of lemon and a spoon of honey followed the darker tea from the bottom of the pot; the clinking of the spoon was a light and cheery sound. "You see, the four houses are named after Hogwarts'founding wizards and witches- Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff. It's a bit of a simplification but the houses tend to be divided according to traits that those founders were best known for- the Ravenclaws for their studious natures and quick minds, Slytherins for their cleverness, caution and aspiration to greatness, Gryffindors for their bravery and boldness, and Hufflepuffs for their loyalty and self discipline. Of course, that doesn't mean that those traits are the only things that define the people in those houses, but those traits tend to stand out most. Typically, the houses are represented by animals as well that are thought to exemplify their personalities- Gryffindor lion, Slytherin snake, and so on."

"The Slytherin house mascot is a snake?" Harry prompted, thinking back to the boa constrictor in the zoo. "I met a snake once. He seemed fairly nice."

"Met a snake?" Albany seemed suddenly more alert, more interested. "That's an interesting way to put it. Where did you, ah, meet him?"

"At the zoo. He was a brazilian boa constrictor, the sign said, but he'd never been home because he was born in the zoo. He wasn't very talkative but he thanked me when he got out- I guess he thought I was trying to set him free. I suppose I would have if I'd known I could..." Harry murmured thoughtfully. "But I guess I kind of did. Don't know if he ever made it home, but at least he got a chance."

Albany took a bite from his last biscuit, chewed it thoughtfully, then popped the last bit of it in his mouth as well. "Mister Potter, you are certainly full of unexpected surprises. I wonder how well you'd fit into Slytherin- probably better than most would expect."

Something about the way Albany said that caught Harry's curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Slytherins often have a bad reputation from folks on the outside of the house- understandable in some cases; a few of them make us look like outright gits. But Slytherin house has a tendency to close ranks when folks from other houses start in on us- wasn't always that way, but Professor Snape started teaching us in my second year about that sort of thing. Even when you're at odds with someone in the house, you HAVE to make at least a show of solidarity- any squabbles get settled in private, or else you show the other houses where you're weakest. Grifs are especially keen on that, you know- think the lot of us are cowardly sots just because we're smart enough to pick our battles instead of locking horns with every opposer right when they show up."

"Grifs?" Harry asked.

"Gryffindors. Like all the houses, they have their good folk and their rotters, but they don't tend to get along with Slytherins." Albany smiled a satisfied smile and shared a conspiratorial wink with Harry. "Course, I can understand their resentment, considering we've been trouncing them good and solid in points the last six years straight. Don't hate us because we're beautiful- hate us because we kick your arse at everything."

Harry laughed at this.

Albany looked up at the wall clock a moment, then back at Harry. "I'd like you to do me a favor: keep an eye out for my little brother- his name is Theodore. He's a wiry, skinny sort- looks a bit like me, although I look more like my father, he takes after- after Mum." Albany swallowed hard at this. "Like as not he'll get sorted into Slytherin, like most of our family does. Even if you end up in different houses, try to at least keep an open mind about him, will you?"

Harry nodded. "I guess I wouldn't mind seeing if we could be friends."

"Good on you, mate." Albany said, smiling. "And it looks like they're opening up the Hogwarts Express, now. Remember what you said about being early- still plenty of time to get a good seat. It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry."

As Harry walked away, getting into the short but growing line for entrance to the red engined train, Albany stood up. He glanced at the wall clock, then towards the wrought iron gate whose placard read "Nine and three-quarters." Much as he'd expected, an older man, severe and stern faced was walking through the gate, accompanied by a weedy young boy who looked both uncomfortable and eager.

Albany walked up to them, looking over at the boy, before tousling his hair in a gesture teasing to his little brother and mildly antagonistic to his father. "Hey squirt. You could use a few more bites at dinner." Albany then directed his attention to the senior Nott, trying to buy enough time for Harry to get aboard the Express without the older man spotting him. "Hello, Father."

* * *

Getting his trunk aboard the train was an interesting experience, albeit one made slightly less onerous by the presence of a taller boy in wizarding robes. After lifting the beastly weight aboard the train, the teen introduced himself as "Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff fourth year. I take it you're a firstie?"

Harry blinked, before nodding. "Ah, yes, I'm a first year."

"Well, suppose I'll take mercy on you and give you a quick pre-orientation orientation." Ignoring Harry's puzzled look as he tried to figure that one out, Cedric continued, "First off, the absolute best house to belong to is Hufflepuff. Without question. A lot of the other houses think we're a pack of duffers, but you'll never find a more solid lot to stand at your back than the badgers. First, last, and each ranking in between is loyalty to your mates and dedication to your chosen work."

"Uh, okay..." Harry said. Hedwig fluttered a bit in her cage, and Harry had to readjust his hold on it so she wouldn't slip out of his grasp.

"Don't be nervous, Hogwarts is a great school. If you apply yourself and follow your talents, you'll do fine. Say, did you want to share a compartment with us?"

"Us?" Harry asked, looking around. He realized that there were indeed two other students there in the hall where they'd stopped to talk, both of whom boys that were taller than he was. Harry realized uncomfortably that, already a little on the small side for his age, he was clearly the stand out- or perhaps the short straw, as it were.

"Sure. Let me introduce my mates- This is Sasha Banachek." Cedric gestured towards the first, a boy with piercing eyes, straight brown hair, and a sharp face. He wasn't fat or anything, just large. His build set Harry in mind of a bear.

"Uh... Sasha?" Harry asked, uncertain.

"Sasha is boy's name in Ukraine." Sasha's accent was pronounced- not incomprehensible, but still definitely hard to mistake for anything but Soviet. It also was laced with the same sort of tired resignation of a person who has explained something far too many times to far too many people.

"How long have you been going to Hogwarts?" Harry asked uncertainly- the Soviet Union wasn't exactly well known in the Muggle world for getting on well with the West.

"Sasha is a fourth year, like me." Cedric said. "And this is Alex Pestler." The other boy had less defined features, but icy blue eyes, and a shock of shoulder length blonde hair. He was carrying a bag slung over one shoulder and a cage with an irritable looking cat in the opposite hand.

Alex added, "And as Sasha will tell you, in Ukraine Alexis is a girl's name. But we're not in Ukraine, so we can leave that tired joke behind, right?" The three boys shared a chuckle and a smirk that indicated this was old hat for them.

"So I never got your name- can't just keep calling you firstie," Cedric said, opening the door to the compartment.

"Oh- it's Harry. Um, Harry... Potter." Harry winced, knowing what came next.

"What? Really?" Exclaimed Alex, stopped in the door. "Can I see the scar?"

Harry lifted his bangs, and the three boys leaned in slightly closer to get a better look at it, and Alex's cat cage bumped the doorway slightly. The animal directed a dirty look at him for this, but otherwise ignored it.

Sasha was the first to comment. "I never expected you wear glasses."

Harry stared at him a moment, before laughing. "Well, I guess I could have left them off if you think the scar would look better without them. Don't expect me to recognize you guys if I take them off, though."

The boys shared a laugh at that. "Hey, I think I like this one. He's not so bad as most firsties, always looking like a bunch of puppies at all the new things," Alex remarked.

"What do you expect from Boy Who Lived?" asked Sasha.

Harry followed them into the train compartment- for Harry, it was a first. He'd never taken a train before, much less alone, and he'd expected it to be a larger version of the average bus in Surrey. Instead, the compartment had a pair of cushioned benches, almost couches, each facing one another. The window in the compartment faced the platform where they could see people turning in tickets and boarding the train. With a slight sigh of relief he set Hedwig's cage down on the seat.

Harry felt the need to answer Sasha's remark as he sat down. "I, uh, don't much like that title. The Boy Who Lived, I mean. I'd really just prefer Harry."

"Living through the Killing Curse, though, that's a big deal," Cedric said. "But you don't really want to be known for that, just for being you. You'd probably make a good Hufflepuff, I think."

"You think so?" Harry asked.

"Sure. Don't see why not." Cedric shrugged. "You're not really wanting to blow your own horn about things, that's definitely a Hufflepuff quality. Down to earth, you know."

Harry shrugged. Looking out the window, his eyes caught sight of a cluster of red heads, all busily and energetically interacting. Harry couldn't make out what they were saying as they were too far away.

"Ah. Weasleys." Alex scratched at his cheek. "Nice enough lot, I suppose. Not so well off or anything, though. Lot of pride in that lot, reckless too. Any bets the newest one- what's his name, Ron?- is gonna be a Grif like all the others?"

"Alex, mate, you know I don't take sucker bets," answered Cedric.

Harry turned his head away from the window, ready to ask another question, when he saw movement on the floor out of the corner of his eye. Down on the floor, next to the closed door, was a toad. "Someone lost a pet?" He asked.

"Eh?" Cedric looked over where Harry was looking. "Wow, looks like it. Wonder who?"

"Don't know, but if we let him out sure as anything he'll get stepped on," Alex added. "Anyone got a box or something to put him in? at least til we find out who he belongs to?"

Sasha picked the animal up, looked around, then handed it to Harry. "You don't mind holding him, do you?"

Harry didn't answer, just looking at the small animal curiously. He'd never been much of a frog catcher as a boy- Dudley wasn't much of an outdoors type, and it wasn't like Harry got a great deal of free time to himself anyways- and the odd shape of the amphibian was fascinating to him. In the back of his mind, he found himself wondering if he had to worry about warts.

The whistle sounded- Harry expected the two hissings of the steam, this time, and wasn't disappointed. "We must be getting ready to go," he said.

"Oh, hey, that reminds me," Alex interjected suddenly, reaching over to the bag he'd slung next to the cage with his cat in it. "Sasha, you have any trouble with McGonagall's assignment over the summer?"

The train lurched slightly, and Harry looked out the window again. Further down the train, on the platform, a small red headed girl was waving at someone at the other end of the train. As the train began to move away, she did her best to keep pace with it, until it was moving too fast for her to keep up, at which point she stopped running and settled for waving frantically. The train began to take a turn, and soon both the girl and the platform were out of sight around the bend in the tracks.

Conversation was sparse, mostly dealing with homework, classes, and a young witch that had caught Sasha's eye last year, and Harry settled for watching the countryside slide by. About twelve twenty five, a smiling, dimpled woman opened the door to their compartment a bit. "Would you like anything from the cart, dears?"

Harry got up, and so did Sasha, who graciously allowed Harry to go first. Harry noted in the hallway that there wouldn't have been room for him to move past Sasha if he hadn't, so he supposed it was for the best. While he'd hoped to buy as many Mars bars as he could carry, the cart didn't have anything of the sort. Instead, it had a variety of oddities of all types. Not wanting to miss out, he bought some of everything, while Sasha stuck mostly to Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Botts Every Flavor beans.

"Bit hungry there?" Cedric commented, eyeing the pile of purchased goodies speculatively.

"Well, I only had a light breakfast," Harry replied ruefully. "Did you want anything?"

"Hmmm. Well, I suppose as an upper classman it's my duty to see to it that you don't overdose on sugar or anything. I could take one of those Licorice Wands, maybe a pumpkin pasty too."

"Mind if I have a Chocolate Frog while you're at it?" Added Alex. "My galleons are all in my trunk right now, I'll pay you back later."

Harry shared out as requested, and noted vaguely that he'd not made much of a dent in the pile- perhaps he'd gone a bit overboard. Still, he was rather enjoying the unfamiliar sensation of not only having the luxuries, but also people with whom to share. Maybe if he couldn't get into Slytherin, these Hufflepuff folks would take him. Or perhaps the other way around?

"Oh, by the way, Cedric- you know how my uncle works with the Ministry, right? I heard tell that there's some business going on with that Fenrir Greyback fellow up north. He apparently got loose in a class of grammar schoolers, bit a couple of them before Aurors could get there. A full round of obliviations, and those kids listed as killed in a car accident- bad business that."

Cedric frowned, swallowing a mouthful of chocolate. "Really? Why'd they list the kids as killed?"

"Had to move em to a guarded location." Alex sighed. "They're not sure if the kid's got the werewolf thing, or not, but they can't afford to not take action. There's a huge manhunt- wolfhunt?- going on to find him before he could do something like this again."

"Werewolf?" Harry asked, alarmed. "Those are real?"

"Of course they're-" Cedric began, then stopped. "Oh, right. Muggle raised. Yeah, they're real. Terrible thing, that."

"There's no cure for it, you see." Alex was as solemn as Cedric was. "Once you're a werewolf, it'll follow you your entire life."

"Could be worse." Sasha didn't look up from his tome, against which he was checking over something on a curled parchment. "Could become upior."

"Upior?" Harry asked, now totally lost.

"Upior- it's kind of a russian variety of vampire," Alex answered. "You'll learn more about them in DADA classes in like third year or so."

"No way vampire is worse than a werewolf." Cedric said emphatically. "Werewolves become completely crazy, lose control of themselves, once a month."

"Upior cannot come out in daylight. It kills them, and they can only survive by drinking blood of living. Miserable existence," Sasha maintained.

Alex regarded Cedric for a moment. "So you're saying you'd rather be a vampire than a werewolf?"

Cedric snorted. "Not saying either one sounds all that good. Although now that you mention it, if I ever DID become a vampire it'd probably put an end to my career."

"That's true enough," replied Alex.

Cedric glanced over at Harry, who had already worked his way through several Pumpkin pasties, sampled some Bertie Botts, eaten a Cauldron cake, a few Butterscotch Broom Straws, and was now eyeing the chocolate frogs with interest. "Say, Harry, let me know if you get Medea, hey? I'm missing her from my collection."

"Medea?" Harry asked, looking up at Cedric.

"Yeah- the card? Oh right. Muggle raised. In each chocolate frog, you get a card with a famous witch or wizard on it. I'm looking to complete my set of greek witches, and she's the only one I don't have. I've got a few other cards to trade for it, if you want to start a collection of your own."

"Eh..." Harry looked over the card, which had a picture of a tanned man with a down turned nose, wavy dark hair, and regal features. He wore a loose toga and looked towards the camera boldly.

Turning over the card, Harry read:

**Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa**

**Roman defence wizard, statesman, and general. Father in law to Emperor Tiberius.  
****Best known for his role in putting down the Aquitanian revolt in 38 BC.  
Was a well known aesthete and a patron of the arts, sculpture in particular.**

"Huh. No, just this Agrippa person." Harry responded, setting the card aside.

"Really? Agrippa's one of the harder ones to get. If you ever start up a collection, he'll be a good one to trade for someone you really want."

Just then the door to the compartment slid open, and a young girl in wizarding robes stood next to a plump, teary eyed boy around Harry's age. "Has anyone seen a toad about? Neville's lost one." She had a bossy sort of voice, bushy hair, and rather large front teeth.

The other boys in the compartment looked at Harry, who belatedly realized that he was, in fact, the last one to have hold on a stray toad. Harry looked next to himself on the seat where Hedwig's cage rested, and found the toad and his owl calmly staring one another down. "Uh, is this him?" Harry asked, lifting the toad from his spot and interrupting the unscheduled staring contest.

"Trevor!" Exclaimed the boy- Neville, Harry presumed- before Harry handed the small animal to him. "Thank you, thank you so much!"

"We didn't want him wandering about where someone might step on him if they weren't careful," Harry explained.

"That was very considerate of you," the girl replied. "Thank you for taking care of him- Neville's been looking all over for him, and he's been quite worried about him, it's been absolutely awful. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

"Cedric Diggory."

"I'm Alex Pestler."

"Sasha Banachek. It is boy's name-"

"-In the Soviet Union. Yes, I know that," the girl replied. She turned her head to face Harry fully. "And you?"

"Harry Potter." Harry added in last.

"Are you really?" Said Hermione, obviously excited. "I've read all about you- I got a few extra books for background reading. You're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century._"

"Am I?" Harry asked dazedly.

"You didn't know? If it was me I'd be trying to find out everything I could. Do you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor; it sounds by far the best. I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. Anyway, thank you again for taking care of Neville's toad, it was very nice of you to look out for someone else's animal before you even knew who they were, and don't you think you should change? We're not too far from the castle according to the clock." And with that, the girl turned and left, Neville closing the door behind her before they went.

Harry looked around confused. "What just happened?"

The other three boys burst out laughing. "You may have just gotten yourself a girlfriend, Harry," Alex said between chuckles.

"What?" Harry's confusion only served to make the other boys laugh harder.

* * *

Harry was inexpertly securing his belt when the door slid open, this time revealing three boys. Harry immediately recognized the one in the middle- it was the pale boy from in front of Madam Malkin's shop. "I remember you. Draco, wasn't it?"

"Good memory," the boy noting with surprise. Harry could see that Draco found him far more interesting than he had when they'd first met. "I suspected you were a sharp one, a month ago." Harry wasn't paying over much attention to him, though, instead looking at the other two boy's who'd come with him. They'd taken up position on either side of Draco, both of them rather thick looking boys with fairly mean looking faces. Draco noticed Harry's glance. "Ah, this is Crabbe, and he's Goyle. They're saying all down the train that the famous Harry Potter is in this compartment. So it's you, then?"

Crabbe and Goyle's expressions were getting less sure of themselves, and Harry looked at his compartment mates to realize that they were all directing unfriendly looks at the three newcomers. Large though they might be for their age, it was plain to see that they did not have the advantage of size or numbers here.

Cedric looked over at Harry questioningly. "Mister Potter, would you like us to dispose of this lot, then?"

Harry looked back at him, nonplussed. "Uh, no, Cedric, they just wanted to see if I really was here, I think. Besides, now that they know they'll probably go on their way, right?" Harry looked back at the newcomers, who were definitely beginning to look nervous.

"Yes, just wanted to be sure. Pleasure making your acquaintance officially, Mister Potter. Malfoy, by the way- Draco Malfoy."

"Likewise," Harry said.

The three boys left, and the tension in the room eased immediately, as Sasha chuckled and Cedric shot him a grin. "Always gets a laugh from me, seeing the tough guy firsties try to throw their weight around, and learn that weight's measured in ounces instead of stones."

It took a moment for Harry to realize they meant the official measure of weight rather than generic rock like objects, eliciting a belated laugh. "Oh. For a moment there, I was wondering why you'd acted that way."

"No problem, Harry. We stand up for our mates." Sasha and Alex nodded their agreement, and Harry felt a bit of wonder that he'd been called a friend. He'd never really had any before. He found himself rather liking the feeling.

Bare minutes later, the girl from before was back. "I've just been up to see the conductor, and he says we're almost to Hogwarts, so you'll want to hurry and get- oh, you've already changed. That's good, the dress code is mandatory. I suppose I'll see you later, then, I need to put my books back in my trunk, and I don't have much time left to do it in. That's a nice hat, by the way," she said, before sliding the door back shut again.

"Definitely a girlfriend," commented Alex with a grin as Harry tried to make sense of the rambling speech the girl had delivered.

"Yep. He's doomed," replied Cedric.

"I don't even understand what just happened," Harry admitted in a bewildered tone.

A voice echoed through the train. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves, and his eyes shot to the other three occupants of the compartment. They were calm, relaxed, and putting up the last of their things which they'd taken from their effects during the long train ride. Harry tried to steady himself and follow suit, although most of what he had to put away were the various remaining sweets he'd bought from the cart earlier. The pile of emptied wrappers which remained was surprisingly large- he hadn't realized he'd had so many, although admittedly at least part of that pile was Sasha's.

"Steady on, Harry- it's new to you, but it'll be fine," Cedric reassured him.

"Oh, it's not really that," Harry said, although it really was. "I may have had too many sweets; it seems to have unsettled my stomach."

Alex and Sasha laughed at this, although on Sasha's face there was a hint of satisfaction that said quite clearly he thought Harry was a lightweight. As the train slowed then lurched to a stop, Harry and the others joined the throng of students outside in the corridor of the passenger car. Through the milling throng, Harry could see Draco and his two training wheels, none of which would look him in the eyes. Somehow that cheered and relaxed Harry more than Cedric's reassuring words from earlier.

The doors to the passenger cars all opened at once, and the gathered students pushed their ways out onto the tiny, dark platform outside. The night air was chilly, and Harry was glad he'd put on the hat earlier, shivering a little despite it. He'd hate to have come out here without it.

Suddenly, over the heads of the students at the far end of the platform, a bobbing lantern appeared, accompanied by a familiar voice. "Firs' years! Firs'years on over this way!"

Harry began to make his way between the other students, only to be jostled slightly by some of the older returnees making way for other firsties. Harry stumbled, and rather than trip over the offending leg that had placed itself in his path he ended up planting his heel square on the arch of its adjoined foot. A howl of pain rose up, and Harry paused in his apology to see that the attempted trip was made by none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry about that, Draco," Harry said with a good bit less sincerity than he'd planned before he saw who it was. "Didn't see you there."

Malfoy's returned glare promised unpleasantness ahead; Harry felt a vindictive satisfaction at this and mentally tallied a second mark under his own name.

"Harry? You all righ' there?" Asked Hagrid as Harry drew closer to where the other firsties had almost finished gathering. Harry nodded back, and Hagrid called out, "Any more firs' years? Come on, then, follow me! Mind yer steps, now, firs' years follow me!"

Hagrid ushered the group of them, including Malfoy limping along the rear, down a steep, narrow path. It was so dark to either side Harry assumed there must be thick trees lining the path. There was little conversation among the students, so the trip was fairly quiet. Neville, the boy who had lost his toad earlier, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, the light of the lantern shining strangely through his thick, grizzled beard. "Jus' round this bend, here."

There was a loud, "Ohhhh!" from the students in the front, as the path suddenly opened up into the shoreline of a great black lake. Atop a high mountain rising from the water on the far side, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers, windows bright against the backdrop of the starry night.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Called out Hagrid, pointing to a fleet of little boats in the water by the shore. Harry noticed that while they were near the front of the crowd, Hermione and Neville hung back a bit until he arrived, and got into the same boat he did, along with a second girl with black hair and a pronounced, almost jutting jaw. She had a somewhat square build, and was barely the tallest and heaviest person on the boat.

As the last students boarded boats, Hagrid called out, "Is everyone in? Right then, FORWARD!"

The fleet of boats all moved off at once, gliding across the lake, which was smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the castle as it loomed larger and closer. It towered over them as they approached nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" Yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads, although Harry noticed in passing that the fourth occupant of the boat whose name he didn't yet know took the opportunity to steal a look at him. The boats carried them all through the curtain of ivy at the base of the cliffs, into a more or less hidden tunnel which seemed to be taking them directly under the castle. The boats slowed to a halt in something like a miniature harbor, lined with pebbles and gravel, where they all clambered out.

"Oy, you there!" Hagrid said. "Is this your toad?"

"Trevor!" Neville cried blissfully, holding out his hands. Next to him, Harry heard the stocky girl mumble something about keeping a better eye on one's familiar, which Harry wasn't entirely certain was all that fair to Neville. The students dutifully follow Hagrid's bobbing lantern up a narrow flight of stone stairs, which exited out onto smooth, damp grass in the shadow of the castle. Another flight of stone steps just ahead took them all the way up to the front of the castle next to huge, iron bound oak doors.

"Everyone 'ere? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised his huge fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

**End Chapter one**

AN: Those of you who are die hard fans will notice that this is fairly close to Chapter Six of the first Harry Potter books. You may want to take careful note of the differences, however, because they're all important. Those of you who have followed my writing will also note that much as I often like to do, I start with a few small differences and work my way out. In this case, your triggering event was the rip in the money bag as they left Gringotts in chapter Five (of the book), which simultaneously allowed Harry to avoid the bad impression of Slytherin by abbreviating his encounter with Malfoy, as well as avoiding Hagrid's description of the house as the "source of all dark wizards." Instead, Hagrid remembers the need to urge Harry to be early rather than late for the Hogwarts train, which prompts Harry to arrive at the station much sooner than he originally would have. Make no mistake about it; Albany is indeed a Slytherin- but by no means are all Slytherins bad, or even most of them. I tried to put a Slytherin spin on his conversation with Harry as well as his actions thereafter, being that Theodore Nott's father- and by extension, Albany's- is a known Death Eater. For brevity's sake and the desire NOT to recap the first third of Ms. Rowling's efforts, I simply began the real writing in chapter six. Prior to Gringotts, expect the background to be the same.

Ja mata.

-AXENOME


	2. 2: The Sorting Hat

The door swung open immediately, revealing a tall, black haired witch in emerald green robes. She had a very stern face and the first thought in Harry's mind on seeing her was to never get on her bad side.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

The woman gave a stiff nod. "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

**Slytherin**

**Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone Chapter 2:**

**"The Sorting Hat" or "When Exactly Was It That Everything Went Daft?"**

Professor McGonagall pulled the doors wide. The entrance hall was immense- Harry figured one could easily have fit the whole of the Dursleys' home in it with room to spare. Flaming torches like those at Gringotts lit the stone walls, rising up to a ceiling high enough that the light couldn't adequately pull it from shadows, and a maginficent marble staircase facing the students led to the upper floors.

The Professor led them across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices to the right, but McGonagall ushered the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. The students crowded in, standing rather closer to one another than they otherwise might have. Harry noticed that Hermione and the other girl who had been on the boat with him had both stuck by him, Neville trailing after Hermione somewhat like a lost duckling with Trevor clutched carefully but firmly in both hands.

Harry vaguely wondered how Hedwig was getting on without him right now.

Professor McGonagall walked to the far end of the room, then faced the students. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony, because while you are here your House will be something like your family in Hogwarts."

_Oh I hope not, Harry thought to himself uncomfortably, thinking of the Dursleys._

"You will have classes with the rest of your house," she continued, "sleep in the house dormitory, and spend your free time in the house common room.

"The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and has produced wizards and witches of outstanding calibre. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope that each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as best as you can while you are waiting." She gave a pointed look to a red headed boy not too far from the front of the group, which Harry noticed almost imediately had a dark smudge of some kind on his nose. Harry took the opportunity to try- with no real success- to smooth down his hair.

"I will return for you all when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry whispered to the fourth member of the boat voyage- Hermione seemed a bit too chatty on the train for him to trust her to stop once she'd started talking- "How exactly do they sort us?"

The girl glanced over at him (Harry still didn't know her name, he realized) and whispered back, "I've heard they read your mind. My cousin Daniel said they use a form of something called legilimency- it was a couple of years ago that he told me, so I don't quite remember all the details."

Harry nodded, not having the first clue of what legilimency was, but taking note to look it up later.

Harry noticed that most of the students around him looked absolutely terrified. He could relate completely. He bit his lip anxiously. When confronted with a problem, what would Cedric do? Or better yet, Albany?

Remembering how Cedric had put on a front when Draco came barging into the train compartment, and how Albany said that basing one's plans off of available information wasn't much good if one didn't take the time to learn that information when possible, Harry tried to look confident (not an easy task) and said, "I don't think I recall your name. I'm Harry."

The girl gave a crafty look and a smile that wasn't as nice as he'd have preferred, and replied, "My name is Millicent, Millicent Bulstrode. And I already know YOUR name, Mister Potter." She giggled a little, further pushing him into the territory of discomfort.

Harry was about to reply something, when Mililcent's eyes widened and she shrieked suddenly. Her shriek was joined by several others as a cluster of pearlescent figures, dressed in various styles of antiquated clothes burst through the back wall and directly over the heads- and in the case of one especially tall first year, THROUGH his head- in a procession. As they flew past, they seemed to be arguing with one another, barely even noticing the first years below them. One in particular, looking much like a fat little monk, was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name, and you know he's not even really a ghost- Oh, I say, what are you all doing here?" A ghost wearing ruffs and tights pulled up short, having apparently noticed the first years. One wide eyed girl was staring alarmed at the ghostly foot hanging a bare inch from her nose.

"New students!" Said the Fat Friar suddenly, smiling disarmingly at the group of them- although his smile might have been more disarming had he not been a disembodied spirit hanging in the air above them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff, then!" he responded cheerily. "My old house, you know."

"Move along, now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting ceremony is about to start."

Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway directing a stern gaze at the ghosts milling about the air. Almost sheepishly, the ghosts began filing out of the room one by one- through an adjacent wall.

Harry revisited his earlier assessment of Professor McGonagall and decided that if anything, he'd understated the woman's formidability. He had NO wish whatever to rile a woman who could intimidate a ghost, much less some twenty or so of them.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall instructed, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly numb and jittery beyond belief, Harry gestured with a slightly unsteady hand to let Millicent and Hermione (and the latter's tail, Neville) to go in front of him, only to discover that in doing so he'd made himself the last one in line. He felt oddly safer when that realization struck him, especially given that he could clearly see Draco and the training wheels ahead of him in line. He had no wish for either of them to be behind him where he couldn't see them. The procession walked out of the chamber, across the hall, and through a set of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never imagined such a place before in his life. Thousands of candles floated unsupported in mid air above four unbelievably long tables, where the rest of the students were waiting seated. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were seated- it was to this table that the first years were led. The students came to a halt in a line in front of this table, facing the students, with the teachers behind them. Harry wasn't entirely happy with this, as he felt them behind him now, an unwelcome sensation after his previous security of no one being behind him. The hundreds of student faces staring at the first years were like pale lanterns in the flickering light of the candles. Interspersed amongst the students were the ghosts from before, misty silver standouts among the student body. Harry looked up, mostly to take his mind off the hundreds of eyes that seemed to be staring at him (and the others, but that wasn't really what it felt like). The ceiling itself was dotted with twinkling stars, but almost pitch black otherwise, and he heard Hermione murmur something to Neville about the ceiling being bewitched to look like the sky outside, according to a book she'd read.

A clunk from in front of him drew Harry's attention back to the fore as Professor McGonagall set down a four legged stool, then set a floppy brimmed, pointed wizard's hat atop it. The hat was patched, frayed, and rather dirty, the sort of thing Aunt Petunia would have forbidden from entering the house. Looking around, he noticed that everyone else was looking at the hat as well, even McGonagall. _Is this legilimency? _Harry wondered to himself. As his eyes moved back to the hat, it twitched. Then, a rip opened up near the brim, like a mouth, and the hat began to sing:

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge on what you see!  
__I'll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me.  
__You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall,  
__For I'm the Hogwart's Sorting Hat, and I can cap them all.  
__There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting hat can't see,  
__So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be.  
__You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave of heart,  
__Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;  
__You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal,  
__Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil;  
__Or yet wise old Ravenclaw, If you've a ready mind,  
__Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind;  
__Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your real friends,  
__Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends.  
__So put me on! Don't be afraid! And you won't get in a flap!  
__You're safe in my hands(though I have none) For I'm a thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall started clapping as the hat finished its song- Harry wondered crazily if it would be required, or at least polite, to toss a sickle or a knut into it, then shook his head. He remembered the first part about nothing being hidden in a person's head from it, and hoped desperately the comparison to a street performer didn't offend it.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbot, Hannah!"

A pink faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell down right over her eyes. A bare moment after she sat down-

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah. Harry's eyes followed her and suddenly fell on Cedric, who was across the table from her, and seated next to Sasha and Alex. Cedric caught Harry's eye and gave him a thumbs up. Harry gave a half smile in response.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Grif- Harry caught himself using the the term mentally, and wondered if it was going to count against him. The table on the far left exploded with cheers- and Harry caught sight of a pair of identical redheads who looked much like the crowd he'd seen on the platform that morning.

"Bullstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. She turned her head back to face Harry as she walked to the middle-right table and gave him another of her not-quite-nice smiles; Harry was beginning to wonder if that was just the way her features were arranged rather than any actual unpleasantness intended on her part.

The anxiousness was starting to bubble up a bit more now as he felt his leg begin to shake a bit, wanting to tap his toes or bounce his foot or something, anything to let off the nervous energy. He tried desperately not to equate this with being picked last for teams during gym in primary school, and failed dismally.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry was starting to notice a pattern. Sometimes, the hat shouted the house at once, while other times it seemed to deliberate a bit before deciding. "Finnegan, Seamus" seemed to take forever before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!" Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat.

When Neville was called, he tripped on his way to the stool, almost dropping his toad in the process. The hat took a long time to decide with him. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered up to the stool when his name was called- the hat wasn't even fully atop his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his training wheels, who'd been called earlier, looking terribly pleased with himself.

Less than half of the first years remained, now.

"Nott, Theodore!"

Harry straightened up a bit, watching the boy walk to the stool, calmly but without Malfoy's swagger, and put on the cap. Barely five seconds elapsed, then- "SLYTHERIN!"

Harry nodded to himself. His brother had been quite an alright sort, Harry considered. Even if Malfoy was in Slytherin, so long as Theodore was anything like his brother Harry supposed that house wouldn't be half bad. Besides, even if Millicent wasn't so perfectly pleasant, she didn't seem bossy the way Hermione had, and would probably wind up being friends with him as well. And with that little grouping, it'd be three on three if trouble rose even if Malfoy was still wearing his training wheels. And if the hat didn't pick Slytherin, he hoped it'd send him to Hufflepuff with Cedric.

"Parkinson..."

"Patil..."

"Patil..." Harry thought for a moment that the repitition had been in error, until he realized that the two girls were in fact identical twins.

"Perks, Sally-Anne..."

Then, finally, "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped out of line, he tried very hard to carry himself like he'd seen Theodore do, chanting mentally, _don't look nervous, don't look nervous, don't look nervous..._ Whispers broke out almost immediately as he stepped forward, like little hissing fires all over the room.

"Potter, did she say?"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

"What house do you suppose he'll be in?"

"Gryffindor for sure, my folks said his family's almost all Gryffindor..."

"I heard he's really smart- Think it'll be Ravenclaw?"

"Definitely Hufflepuff, that one- he's friendly to everyone, from what I saw..."

The whispers cut off as the hat covered his ears and eyes; the last sight he saw was the entire hall staring at him intently. Then pitch dark in the hat. He waited.

"Hmmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Sharp mind, too. Talent, oh my goodness, there's talent, and a thirst to prove yourself as well, that's interesting. Raw traits won't decide it by themselves, let's see what memories we have to work with... Hmmm, an appreciation for loyalty and that Cedric chap, could go- Oh my."

The hat paused, and Harry wondered, _What? Oh my what?_

Before the words could actually leave his mouth, the hat whispered, "Why, that Malfoy lad and his two... training wheels, did you call them? And already you have an eye out for how you can even the odds... not looking for conflict, but definitely preparing for it if it should happen, you have ambition, talent, caution, the mindset that causes you to plan ahead, yes, indeed, there's no question that you're a SLYTHERIN!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He pulled up the brim of the hat to a shocked room, before the Slytherin table burst out into whoops of joy. Cedric and his friends looked like they'd been pole-axed, and Hermione seemed almost crestfallen from where she sat at the Gryffindor table. Behind him, Harry heard a low voice mutter, "Interesting. How very interesting... indeed."

The rest of the room broke out into low conversation- as Harry walked to the Slytherin table, he noted distantly that the announcement had thrown the room into utter chaos. Malfoy looked contemplative, Millicent looked triumphant, and conveniently for her, the nearest empty seat at the table was right next to her. As he sat down, she smiled at him again, and said, "Welcome home, Mister Potter!" The bloody ghost seated at the table gave Harry chills just looking at him; morose, nearly silent, it regarded Harry with something that hinted at contentment. "Just goes to show you, the only thing that could top the greatest modern Slytherin in history- is another Slytherin," someone commented. Harry glanced about, but didn't notice who'd said it.

Harry looked back up at the assembled first years who'd yet to be sorted; behind them, a tall, silver -haired and -bearded man stood from his seat at the center of the Teacher's table, trying to get the hall to calm down a bit so they could continue. Harry saw the man's eyes settle on him for a moment, with something of an inscrutable gaze, before they moved on to the rest of the room. Harry had to wonder if perhaps he'd just imagined that the old man had looked at him. Harry also spotted the nervous man from the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley, the one who'd called himself Professor Quirrell. He was looking very odd in a purple turban.

The second to last boy to be sorted was another red head- at the announcement "GRYFFINDOR!" Malfoy commented from a small way down the table, "Good riddance. Glad none of that rubbish ended up here, even Puffs'd throw him back."

Harry looked over at Malfoy, who smiled, "My father says that family always has red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." The way that Draco delivered the line was as though he'd been rehearsing it for a while and waiting for the perfect audience to hear it. Noting that he had everyone's attention nearby, he added, "And that one's a typical Weasley from what I hear, he's perfect for the Grifs- straight forward as a charging bull and only half as clever."

Harry felt a sudden stab of intense dislike for Malfoy; in a way he was coming to represent everything that Harry had hated about Dudley. In a flash of wit, he snapped out, "More children than they can afford might not be a bad trade off. Money can't buy sense, as you should know already."

More than a few of the surrounding first years gasped and clapped hands to their mouths, trying not to laugh as Malfoy processed this with a stunned look on his face. The older students seemed torn between disapproval and humor; Harry felt his heart pounding in his chest as for the first time in his life, he got one up on someone who bothered him. He found he rather liked this feeling, too.

"SLYTHERIN!" called out the hat, and Harry realized he hadn't noticed the last boy take his place. As the final first year walked to the Slytherin table, the silver haired and bearded man stood back up; beaming brightly, hehis arms wide open as if overjoyed to see them all, he said, "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin, I'd like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered; Harry wasn't sure whether he should laugh or not. "That was... different," he began diplomatically, trying to maintain the strange mood he'd had that seemed to allow him to joust with Malfoy and win. "Is he... always like that?"

"Who, Dumbledore?" Asked one of the older students. "Yeah, he's a bit cracked. Still, he's pretty much the most powerful wizard... alive," he continued after a pause.

Harry turned his head to look across the table and gasped, the dishes in the center now filled with all manner of foods. Roast beef, roasted chicken, juicy pork chops and lamp chops garnished with rosemary and honey, sausages, bacon, steak, boiled potatoes, roasted potatos, mashed potatos, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, catsup, and oddly enough peppermint humbugs. He'd never seen so many things he liked to eat on a single table before. The Dursleys had never starved him, exactly, but he'd never been allowed to eat quite as much as he'd liked. Anything he really wanted Dudley had always taken from him, even if it made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything but the mints and began to eat.

Dinner was fairly congenial, the Slytherins not tending to say much. The morose ghost had moved himself over to sit next to Malfoy, who looked rather unhappy with the situation. The blood stains, even if it was only ghost blood, on his clothes only served to make his clanking chains more macabre, and he seemed to make a task of it to stare Malfoy in the eyes any time Malfoy looked in his direction. Looking back at Millicent, a moment, he watched as she proudly expounded to the girl on the other side of her about her family ancestry, heraldry, and general fitness to the wizarding world. Harry began to wonder if he really wanted to associate with her after all. Then he considered Malfoy, still pushing the food around his plate with any real enthusiasm while the ghost at his side clanked any time the fork rose to Draco's mouth, and Harry decided any friends were better than no friends.

As Harry and the others were cleaning their plates, then sat down their utensils, the plates themselves suddenly came clean of their own accord, and the forks and knives with them. The serving dishes in the middle of the tables vanished, to be replaced with smaller and more ornate ones holding all manner of desserts appeared in their place. Ice creams of every flavor, almost as many types of sorbets, pies and tarts and eclairs and donuts and sliced fruits and jello and...

Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, and listened as the older students began turning to more serious topics, such as teachers and classes and most important of all, house points. Which teachers to avoid antagonizing, which ones would allow for a little banter, and the ways that were easiest to set up other houses into losing points by baiting them. Harry thought it sounded rather... well, rather unfair. And not very nice, for that matter.

_But then, being nice never really helped me much, did it? Not when people picked at me to get in good with Dudley. Cedric and his friends weren't so bad though. What should I do?_

Harry looked up towards the teachers, and his eyes met those of a hook nosed man with greasy black hair, who was talking to Professor Quirrell. Harry got the feeling that the man didn't care for Harry much at all.

"Who is that one?" Harry asked one of the older students- one who'd intriduced himself as Lucibald Wringer.

"Hmm?" Lucibald looked up from his mouthful of rice pudding.

"The one that Professor Quirrell is talking to," Harry elaborated.

Lucibald turned his head to see, then gave a short laugh before looking back at Harry. "Oh, that's Professor Snape, the head of our house."

Professor Snape was looking at Harry as the latter turned his head to see him again, and Harry got the feeling that the Professor knew he was being discussed. His thin, pinched lips did not betray any emotion beyond cool, disdainful disapproval.

Lucibald continued, "Quirrell is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, if you'll recall. Professor Snape has been after that post for years. Personally I'd trust Professor Snape to teach us better about Defense than that flittering snitch Quirrell, but 'Headmaster Dumbledore,'" the title and name were spoken with a faintly mocking tone, "believes that Professors Snape needs to remain as potions master. Then again," Lucibald mused thoughtfully, "our head of house is probably knows more about potions than all the other professors here combined, and potions can be outright deadly if done wrong, so I suppose Dumbledore may be on to something. Still, doesn't seem quite fair that Professor Snape keeps getting passed up by half the staff Dumbledore brings on."

"How's that again?" Millicent popped in, where she'd been listening in on the conversation. Harry didn't really mind so much, of course, being as it let him get a little more information without letting on quite how out of his depth he was, but found himself slightly bothered that she'd been- well, eavesdropping wasn't really the word (nor was it particularly nice) but still came rather close to the mark.

"Well, there's a lot what say that the Defense Against the Dark Arts posting is cursed. We never have the same professor more than two years running, and haven't since Dumbledore turned down You-Know-Who for the job. Some say that he cursed the position out of spite when he wasn't allowed to have it."

Conversation turned to other things, and Harry turned his head again to watch Snape, but the professor didn't look at him again.

After a while longer, the desserts too disappeared, and the silver haired one who Harry only could assume was Dumbledore got to his feet. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem- just a few more words now that we are all properly fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would also do well to remember that." Dumbledore's eyes directed to the Gryffindor table as he said this, eliciting a few stifled chuckles from some of the upperclassmen near Harry.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Finch, the caretaker her, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, and was one of the only ones who did at the Slytherin table. Lucibald in particular shot Harry a quizzical look.

"Is he serious?" Harry whispered to Lucibald.

"Never heard the headmaster say to not go somewhere without an explanation why," Lucibald answered in equally low tones, "but he never places anything as off limits without a good reason. I'd have thought he'd have told one of us prefects about it before the announcement, though."

Harry blinked, then noticed that Lucibald was indeed wearing a badge that named him as a Prefect, although Harry wasn't entirely sure of what that position or title actually entailed. One more thing to look up later, he supposed.

"And now," Dumbledore had continued, "before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed immediately that whatever smiles the other teachers had been wearing suddenly appeared quite strained.

Dumbledore gave his wand a flick,and a long, golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and began to twist elegantly into graceful cursive script.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

The school bellowed in response,

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts,  
__Teach us something please,  
__Whether we be old and bald,  
__Or young with scabby knees.  
__Our heads could do with filling,  
__With some interesting stuff,  
__For now they're bare and filled with air,  
__Dead flies and bits of fluff.  
__So teach us things worth knowing,  
__Bring back what we've forgot,  
__Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
__And learn until our brains all rot.  
__With some interesting stuff,  
__For now they're bare and filled with air,  
__Dead flies and bits of fluff.  
__So teach us things worth knowing,  
__Bring back what we've forgot,  
__Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
__And learn until our brains all rot."_

Everybody finished the song at different times. The last pair- the twin redheads from the Gryffindor table- were still only two-thirds through when everyone else fell silent and were singing in dolorous tones reminiscent of a funeral march. Harry was not alone among the students who were snickering behind their hands at the red heads' antics, even at the Slytherin table, but Dumbledore blandly permitted them to finish, even going so far as to conduct the last few bars of their performance with his wand, before continuing on.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping a tear (or at least, a pretend one) from his eye. "A magic beyond all that we do here. And now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

The Slytherins got up almost as one; Harry and many of the first years fairly bounced to ther feet as not to look foolish. As they walked out of the main hall, firsties trailing along behind the others, Harry discovered that his legs felt like lead, mostly from fatigue and being more full than he could ever remember being in his life. Some part of his mind that wasn't occupied with anticipating the feel of lying down to sleep took note of the portraits whose subjects pointed and whispered as they passed. Lucibald wasn't the prefect who led them, as another older one apparently took that role, but rather brought up the rear to ensure that no-one fell behind or got separated from the group. They walked out past the great hall, through several tunnels, a long court yard, past a small collection of shrubberies and benches and a few trees that could have easily stood in London as a park, and into a stonework hutch with great spiralling cobbled steps that went down, down, down. The air became a little damp, although there was none of the smell of mildew or moss that one might expect of a deep dungeon, for that was where they found themselves: a massive, underground complex with arched portals and plain, uncarved walls, unlike much of the rest of Hogwarts. It was fastidiously clean and uncluttered by virtually anything. Still, the walls looked even more solid than the cliff that Hogwarts was built onto; Harry had no doubt that little or nothing could scratch them, let alone get in.

"We're here," said the leading Prefect, who placed his hands on a bare section of wall, then intoned, "Dignity!"

The wall scraped weightily as it began to part, revealing beyond rather than mere stone, a long passageway whose floor was polished green marble. "Mind your steps- first few days after summer break the floors are slippery, since the elves always take the long break to wax and polish them smooth as glass. Under no circumstances are you permitted to bring liquids into this hall unless they're sealed." The students filed in softly. Lucibald was last one in, and pulled out his wand to tap the wall, allowing it to close much more silently than it had opened.

The long hallway passed into a large, open room. Perhaps in the past this had been the nexus of a group of cells, but now its floors, walls, and decor were done in a rich mahogany wood. The lintel of the fireplace was the same green marble as the hall floor had been, and etched traceries were inlaid in silver protraying vines interspersed with snakes of all kinds. One particular snake Harry noticed was a boa constrictor; this brought a smile to Harry's lips.

The girls were directed to the doorway on the right side of the room; boys to the left. Harry followed the others as they were divided smaller and smaller until he was ushered into a room with two older students and, as luck would have it, Theodore Nott. Harry found himself wondering if perhaps Albany had passed a word ahead- not too hard to suppose that he still maintained contacts in the Slytherin house. The bed was high off the ground, the blankets were the same green as all the marble and the sheets a glossy silver. His trunk and Hedwig had already been brought up; despite his exhaustion he still made sure she was comfortable on her perch and fed her a few owl treats before pulling on his pyjamas and collapsing onto the bed. He barely noticed how much softer this bed was than anything he'd ever slept in before he fell into a deep sleep.

Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit much; he had an odd dream where he was wearing Quirrell's turban, which was speaking to him about embracing his great destiny. Harry told the turban it didn't get to tell him what to do, at which point Malfoy nearby (for once without his training wheels) started mocking him. Malfoy began to turn into Professor Snape, while the turban turned into a bundle of snakes, and all began laughing at him. There was a burst of green light, and Harry woke up shaking and sweating. He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke the next morning, he'd forgotten all about it.

**End Chapter Two**

AN: Blurb. Blub blub. Rubber baby buggy bumpers. Also, a picture of a rabbit with a pancake on its head.

On other matters, this is chapter two. Yes, there are sections of dialogue straight from the book- it's easy to assume that many conversations so far are going to remain fairly unchanged. The real trick is to compare the viewpoints of Gryffindor Harry and Slytherin Harry- because they diverge quite rapidly. Expect to hear conversations previously only alluded to, as well as allusions to conversations with which you are familiar.

Ja mata.

-AXENOME


	3. 3: The Potion Master

Before leaving the dormitories the next day, all of the Slytherin first years were hustled into the common room. The fireplace burned cheerily, and the room was quite comfortable. The three house prefects were waiting for them. "Before you go out today, Professor Snape has requested that he speak with all of you first to lay out the ground rules for the expected conduct of all Slytherins."

**Slytherin**

**Book One: Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone**

**Chapter Three: "The Potion Master" or "A Rather Dodgy Beginning"**

Snape, if anything, looked even more sketchy than he had the night before. He paced slightly as he spoke, and his tone was low, hypnotizing, and steady. "As some of you may already be aware, I am Professor Snape. I will be your head of house for the foreseeable future. A word of caution, for all of you: I would advise against actions that reflect poorly on the house of Slytherin. Know the rules, memorize them, etch them eternally... on... your minds." The cadence of his speech provided emphasis where another would have raised their voice. Snape did nothing of the sort, remaining at the same volume as he'd begun. "The rules are an extension of an ancient art know as philosophy, as are all laws. Understanding the nuances of what is considered acceptable, albeit barely, and what is unacceptable, this is what grants a proper Slytherin the advantage, of knowing exactly what you can and cannot do- most especially when those who would be your adversaries do not. Knowing when to speak, and when.. to hold... one's tongue." Snape paused in his slow pacing in front of Harry as he said this, turning his head in Harry's direction as he did so. After a short pause, while they waited, he continued rapidly, "and it is apparent that this is not a lesson lost on all of you, despite heritage which would suggest otherwise. Conflicts within the house are settled in just that fashion- within the house. External displays of a lack of unity exposes weaknesses, ones which may be exploited by those with clever minds, for make no mistake about it, try as we might Slytherin does not- quite- have the monopoly on clever minds. Thus it falls to me, and to yourselves, to ensure that what we do have is honed to the keenest possible edge, and not flashed about needlessly. Display your most important tools solely when you need to use them, then put them away again, where they may stay safely hidden from prying eyes which had the misfortune of not taking good enough notice of them the first time around. This is not to say that holding back in your scholastic performance is in any fashion acceptable, and you will perform scholastically to the best of your ability. But there will be no showing off merely for the sake of showing off. Do what you must, do what you need to, and do not act rashly in either. Leave the rushing ahead foolishly for the likes of the Gryffindors; when possible, learn from their mistakes and act accordingly. The first man into the brush is often an object lesson for the second."

Snape turned and stood by the fireplace. The whole room were watching him intently as he lectured, Harry included. Snape went on, "The snake is an ancient symbol. Often feared, especially in muggle culture for reasons I will touch on momentarily, it has oft been amongst the magical community a symbol of both wisdom and healing. Of more recent times, it has come to be associated with He-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named, for both the fact that he himself was a Slytherin, and that Slytherins numbered highest amongst his followers. Many have come to assume that our house is therefore corrupt, and our reputation is frequently contaminated by association. This reason means it is far more important now than at any other time in history for you to ensure that the image of house Slytherin is not tarnished, much like the silver in our banners. So long as you ensure it remains unsullied, you will all shine brightly, although some perhaps moreso than others.

"The influence of the Muggle religions have often painted snakes in an unfavorable light, associating them with deception, untrustworthiness, poison, and ruthlessness. In all fairness, none of these perceptions is entirely inaccurate when one teeters on the precipice of survival, but these perceptions are carefully cultivated to downplay if not completely ignore those traits which would be considered favorable. Snakes are excellent controllers of vermin, and when treated well are among the most reliable of companions. But the truth is that the snake expects reciprocity, an even deal, unlike the slovenly and fawning loyalty of a dog, and carries out all contracts in a spirit of continued good faith. You are all here because you displayed most strongly the traits of a Slytherin, and therefore I will hold you all to the standards of one."

Snape stopped speaking, then surveyed the crowd before them. Harry felt something akin to respect for this man, all unbidden, despite the fact that Snape clearly didn't think much of him. But Harry had every intention of changing that last bit.

Finally, Snape nodded once. "You are dismissed."

* * *

The halls were an uncomfortable experience for Harry- he couldn't walk five steps without hearing someone whispering "There he is" or "That's him with the glasses" or the one he really hated, "Have you seen his scar?"

Harry put on a neutral face, though, because as Snape had said, exposing weaknesses was a bad idea.

He instead focused on trying to find his way to classes; to his annoyance he learned that Millicent had attached herself to him, conversing with him one-sidedly about suppositions regarding the upcoming year. Considering he had wanted to recruit her to his cause anyways, he did nothing to discourage it, although he didn't much enjoy it.

Catching sight of Theodore, Harry called out, "Nott! Over here!"

Theodore Nott looked up from where he was leaned against the wall, puzzling out his schedule from a partially unfurled parchment, and said, "Mister Potter? Something I can do for you?"

Harry blinked a moment, before walking over to him, Millicent following along as though it had originally been her idea. Harry stopped and said, "What class are you headed for next, then?"

Theodore looked down at his parchment and said, "Transfigurations, with Professor McGonagall."

"Same as us, then," Harry said. "Let's go together."

Finding one's way to class was a chore. The were nearly a hundred fifty staircases, and each of them with their own oddities, pecadillos, and dangers. Doors would lead to anywhere or nowhere, and sometimes whimsical walls would apparently impersonate doors just for the fun of it. After a bit of a task in locating McGonagall's class, however, the three of them finally arrived.

None of them had been looking forward much to this; McGonagall had been intimidating to begin with, and the fact that she was head of the Gryffindor house made her something of a bogart to many of the older Slytherins.

Harry underscored his earlier assessment of her; strict, and clever, she gave the entire class a talking-to the moment they sat down in her class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone fooling around in my class will be removed and not returned. You have been warned and will not be so again."

Then she proceeded to change her desk into a pig, then back again. The entirety of the class was impressed, although a part of Harry wondered if it was a subtle threat as well as a demonstration. Dudley had been granted a pig tail by Hagrid merely for being irritating, after all, so it wasn't so hard to guess that students might be subject to something a bit more severe for callously endangering their classmates. Even so, it was a bit of a letdown after the demonstration to learn that they wouldn't be doing anything so flashy for a long time, as wands were ordered up and quills out for a great number of complicated notes. After perhaps forty minutes of this, wands out again, and each student was given a match and told based off the notes that had been given thus far, to attempt to turn it into a needle. Harry had managed to get a needle shape to his match, with an eye on the wooden end and a point at the sulphur, but accidentally struck it as he tapped the match with his wand again, thus lighting it and getting doused with a spritz of water by an amused McGonagall. Hermione came closest to a successful transfiguration, having turned most of the match a silvery metal with a bit of a point, concentrating more on composition than shape as Harry had initially focused on. None-the-less, McGonagall had made note that his shaping had come along reasonably well, for a first attempt. Hermione had gotten five points for house Gryffindor, and Harry three for Slytherin, minus one for starting a fire in class, even if it was only a match head.

After Transfiguration was Defense Against the Dark Arts, which everyone had been looking forward to, and discovered that the reality was a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania that he worried might come back to get him one of these days. His turban, he claimed, was given to him by an African prince as a thank you present for getting rid of a particularly troublesome zombie, but when asked precisely how it was done Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather. Harry thought Quirrell was either a liar, a great actor trying to conceal trade secrets, or else his success in the matter had been embarrassing or downright accidental. When Harry brought it up to Theodore, the young Nott had voted for the latter while Millicent (who was still trailing after Harry much like Neville did after Hermione) thought he was making the whole thing up.

Harry figured the second option was a little too Slytherin for Quirrell, who was a Ravenclaw. Then again, as Snape had mentioned in his speech, no house had a monopoly on cleverness.

Friday was the big day- Potions with Professor Snape. Harry knew at this point that if he was going to make an impression with the teacher he'd have to really bust his back in this class. As he entered the class, however, he found himself assigned to the seat to the right of Ronald Weasley, the red headed first year who'd barely seen Harry so far this week and already made it clear to anyone that had open eyes that he didn't care for Harry one bit. Hermione, on the other hand, seated directly on the other side of Ron, only exacerbated the situation by insisting on saying hello to Harry and being polite, even going so far as to have a casual conversation with him. Millicent had made an abortive attempt at getting her to leave, but Harry nipped that one in the bud. Millicent had seemed confused, almost offended by this in the common room later, until Harry pointed out that Snape warned them that Slytherin had a bad reputation in recent years through no real fault of their own. After all, from what Harry had read the high incidence of Slytherins amongst You-Know-Who's followers was almost assuredly because they were the ones who he had most ready access to, being a Slytherin himself. It fell to them, however, through simple circumstance to attempt to mend this viewpoint, and a good way to start was by opening up cordial relations with other houses. Besides, maintaining relations with other houses granted them a pool of allies to draw from in case it was ever necessary, and possible, highly talented allies shouldn't be alienated without a bloody good reason.

Millicent seemed to be withholding judgement on that one until a later date, but acquiesced for the time being. Harry had confidence that she'd see it as for the best in time.

Ron seeing it as for the best, however, Harry was pretty doubtful of. Even now, he was shooting Harry a series of rather dirty looks as Harry talked to Hermione about notes taken in yesterday's Astronomy class- Slytherin and Gryffindor weren't in it at the same time, but the class was the same for either.

"Oh, bollocks!" snapped Ron finally as Harry tried to politely ignore his glares. "Would you want me to swap seats with her so the two of you can be chatty without breathing in my hair?"

Harry shrugged, and said, "Well, it's nice of you to offer, but I'd hate to put you to any trouble to ask for a seat change."

"And you- he's a SLYTHERIN!" Ron said, turning to Hermione angrily. "There's not a dark wizard born who wasn't one of them, and they're all slimy untrustworthy gits! Why would you talk to him, anyway?"

Harry grew a serious scowl. "Mister Weasley- you don't mind if I call you that, do you? Considering you're a good bit too unpleasant for me to pretend you're a friend and call you Ronald, I mean."

"Friends with a snake like you? As if!" Ron countered.

Harry was about to lay into Ron- a week in the Slytherin common room after hours had opened his world to all manner of interesting, subtle conversational jabs that Harry was rather eager to try out- when the door to the classroom opened, and Professor Snape arrived. Harry instead gave the professor a nod which wasn't acknowledged, much less returned, and pulled out a quill and some parchment. Hermione saw this, and followed suit, as did Millicent to Harry's right.

The potions class took place in the dungeons, not too terribly far from the Slytherin dormitory, and by now Harry was starting to feel like this was home territory. Snape proceeded to call the names to ensure attendance, then looked up after finishing. He gave an almost theatrical pause, and Harry dipped his quill, preparing to take notes.

"You are all here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in his customary soft tone that was barely above a whisper, the same tone which he used to speak to all of his Slytherins. "As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe that this is magic. I don't expect that you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

The only sound that followed this minor speech was the scratching of Harry's quill, shortly followed by that of Hermione and Millicent, who noticing that Harry was writing down Snape's words, followed suit.

"Although it would seem, in fact, that there are some here who are more concerned with writing notes to one another and spreading bad habits to others around them than actually paying attention." Snape said, slowly approaching Harry's seat at the long desk with a bland look on his face that Harry thought held a hint of menace. "Would you care to share your writing with the rest of the class, Mister... Potter."

Harry swallowed uncertainly. Behind him, he could hear the snickers of Crabbe and Goyle, and fairly smelled Draco's satisfaction with Harry's impending humiliation. So far this week, Harry had succeeded in gathering a little clique to himself despite Draco's attempts at shutting it down, mostly through Harry capitalizing on the fame he had as The-Boy-Who-Lived. Distasteful, in Harry's opinion, but he'd quickly learned that in this crowd sometimes you had to use what advantages you had, even the ones you didn't much care for.

Harry started to stand up, under Snape's impassive glare, then stopped.

"Well, Mister Potter? You began to stand up, do complete the action. And then read to the class what you've written so far- you're famous, after all. Your words should be as well."

Harry began in a voice that sounded slightly higher than he was used to speaking, "The subtle science and exact art of potion making. There is little wand use here, but it still qualifies as magic. There is a beauty in the simmering cauldron, power in liquids flowing through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. In this class we will learn to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- but only if we apply ourselves." Harry paused, then said, "I changed the words a bit, to try and get down your meaning. Uh-" Harry trailed off as Snape's gaze didn't lessen in severity.

The professor seemed dissatisfied for a moment, as though he was more irritated by the fact that Harry had been taking lecture notes rather than passing notes in class and goofing off. "Tell me, Mister Potter," Snape asked, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

Harry gulped, then said, "I don't know, sir."

"Clearly, fame isn't everything. Tell me, then, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Snape asked.

Harry noticed at this point that Hermione's hand was raised, so high it was almost shaking.

"I don't know, sir," Harry repeated.

"Didn't feel the need to open a book before coming to class? Let's try again: what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane? Miss Granger, put your hand down." Snape demanded and ordered, without raising his voice or breaking stride.

"I don't know, sir," Harry said, swallowing, then raising his chin defiantly. "But I'm willing to learn."

Snape waited a second longer, sparing a glance for the notes on Harry's parchment, before looking Harry in the eyes. "You may sit down, Mister Potter. And I find it interesting that only Mister Potter here had the good sense to prepare to take notes from the moment I walked through the door. It would seem the habits you are spreading to those around you might well be good ones after all." Snape folded his hands behind his back as he began reciting quickly, "Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of the Living Death. A bezoar is a stone found in the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, also known as aconite." He paused again, only the sound of Harry's furiously scribbling quill and that of Hermione and Millicent as well. Looking at the rest of the class, Snape said, "Pity that those habits of yours can't spread any faster, Mister Potter."

As Snape returned to the front of the classroom, Harry felt a stab of triumph. Not quite approval, but certainly not disapproval. Stealing a glance over at Draco the feeling of triumph only increased as Draco's hate filled glare met Harry's eyes, while pulling out parchment and quill of his own.

After a short but frantic session of note taking, Snape split them all into pairs. Harry found himself paired with Hermione, while Ron was paired with Millicent. Harry wasn't sure why Snape had chosen to shuffle them this way but was glad of it, as it gave him official reason to take a break from Millicent's company without risking upsetting or offending her. He set them all to the task of brewing a simple potion to cure boils, then proceeded to sweep around in his cloak watching them all weigh nettles, crush snake fangs, and boil slugs. His scathing criticisms seemed to ignore house delineations, without mercy or inattention to the smallest detail, with the sole exceptions of Malfoy, who he seemed to like, and Hermione and Harry, who he scrutinized their work with almost eager exactitude, before grudgingly muttering the word, "Adequate."

Snape was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way, both in timing and temperature, that Malfoy had boiled his slugs, when clouds of green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus' cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds everyone was standing on their stools, and Neville, who'd been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up over every inch of his exposed skin on his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with a wave of his wand. "I gather you added the porcupine quills before you removed the cauldron from the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils began popping up on his nose.

"Take him to the hospital wing," Snape snapped at Seamus.

Snape seemed to look around, angrily, as though trying to find someone to lash out at, before gathering up the hem of his robe and ordering everyone off the stools and back to work. "This sort of foolishness is the exact reason you must pay close attention to every detail of your instructions. Proper potion preparation is a hazardous endeavor, and even the correct ingredients can backfire horrendously unless procedure is followed precisely."

Snape walked about, grading everyone on their potions, despite the interruption during the brewing process. Harry didn't quite think it fair but said nothing, not wanting to lose any of the ground he'd made today.

An hour later, the students were filing out of the room, when Harry heard someone call his name. He turned, only to his surprise to see Hermione bounding up to him. "That was grueling! I can't imagine how poor Neville must be feeling right now, with all of that ruined potion splashed across him. I don't understand why the professor chose something like that for our first potion if it could go so horribly wrong, although I suppose it's better than being turned into a newt or a pig like Professor McGonagall's desk. Anyways, since we have some free time, would you like to go over our notes together? Professor Snape spoke too quickly for me to be certain of having gotten everything he had to say, so I figured that since you were the one most intent on note taking during his class that we could compare notes and see if either of us missed anything the other got." Hermione stopped to take a breath, and Harry looked over at Millicent.

Millicent had a slightly discontent expression, but said, "I suppose we can all compare notes, then. Of course, my potions partner today didn't have much written down at all," she added with a look of disgust.

"Who, Mister Weasley?" Harry said. "Sorry you were saddled with that one. Did he do any of the work at all?"

"He made the attempt, but wasn't particularly cautious about what he was doing," Millicent said with a scowl. "I had to stop him from adding the second dose of nettle before the powdered snake fang was finished dissolving. After what happened to the other boy, I shudder to think what would have happened from there."

"The addition of too much nettle before the complete dissolution of the powdered snake fang results in a selectively acidic compound whose side effects are to turn the skin of the unfortunate a bright orange color, as well as specifically dissolving most keratin based compounds," Snape announced from above them, causing the three of them to jump out of startlement. "Had this unfortunate event been permitted to proceed, likely you and Mister Weasley would be bright orange, devoid of hair or fingernails, and dependant on the composition of your clothes, possibly unbearably humiliated right now- if such a thing is possible for one so inattentive as the Weasley boy. And if the three of you are quite finished loitering about in the halls and obstructing foot traffic, I'd suggest moving along, unless you wish for something to keep you all occupied. I might suggest a thorough scrubbing of my stock cauldrons in the latter case."

Much as suggested, the three of them vacated the area immediately, although rather than dividing up into their associated house common rooms, they instead followed Harry's suggestion to settle in the small, sort of Park that they passed every night on the way from the dining hall to the Slytherin house, after finding the hospital wing and paying a short visit to Neville. The next few hours before dinner were spent going over notes, where Harry found that Hermione had picked up a few things he'd missed, he'd caught a couple of lines Hermione hadn't, and both of them discovered that Millicent (who was quite pleased at this) had some things that neither of them had jotted. After a lot of marginized notes and comparisons and a few corrections of misheard words, the three of them headed to the Great Hall for dinner. On the way, however, they ran across Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Harry looked around- nobody else was present.

"Well hello, Draco," Harry said with a cool tone he didn't fully feel. "I see you brought your training wheels with you again. Afraid you'll fall over without them when you go out without your mum and dad?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, and replied, "Well, Potter, I suppose at least I HAVE a mum and dad. Ones that didn't meet a bad end because of poor choices. Some things run in the family, I understand." Footsteps echoed in a nearby hallway; Crabbe and Goyle maintained their unfriendly gaze as Draco nonchalantly looked off in that direction, then looked back at Harry. "We'll be seeing you around." The three of them moved off together, and Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Hermione scowled and untensed her arm, whose hand Harry now saw held her wand- he'd not expected her to be willing to use it to defend him. Harry's respect for her climbed another notch even if he wasn't too sure of what she'd be able to do with it yet.

Looking over at Millicent, Harry was about to suggest they move on, only to see that she too had taken out her wand. Harry was starting to feel a little silly in that drawing his own wand hadn't even occurred to him. He was about to say something to that effect when Millicent's eyes darted over his shoulder, then she began saying, "So anyhow, after the yew wood with Acromantula hairs, which didn't really feel right to me, then Mister Olivander drew out this one, which- Oh, hello Mister Filch."

Argus Filch, the caretaker, popped round the corner, eyeing the three of them suspiciously. His cat, Mrs Norris, was peering out at them with an equal expression of spite from behind his legs.

"Magic isn't permitted outside designated class times!" snapped Filch, grinning nastily as he eyed Millicent's wand.

"Oh, I was just telling them about how I first got this wand, Mister Filch!" Millicent replied innocently. "It was a wonderful feeling, like it fit me perfectly. That feeling of magic flowing, like you can do anything..."

Filch scowled angrily, and looked as though he'd bitten into a rotten lemon, before whirling about and stomping off. His footsteps were loud enough to echo for a good minute after he'd gone.

Hermione looked at Millicent questioningly. Millicent smiled, that same slightly unpleasant smile she always did. "Filch is a squib, you know. My cousin said it's always been a sore spot for him that he couldn't use magic. Better than getting in trouble for magic use outside the classrooms, hmm?"

Hermione furrowed her brow, as though trying to justify this in her mind, but Harry smiled. "Quick thinking, then. Feel kind of bad for flicking him that way, though, and he might try to get even with you later on. Still, thank you- both of you!- for backing me up."

"Draco is nothing but a bully. They don't ever like trouble that they can't scare ahead of time. They wouldn't have done anything." Hermione said with a snort, apparently putting the issue to rest in the back of her mind.

The three of them continued on their way to the Great Hall for dinner.

**End Chapter Three**

AN: Hmmm. Cheese filled manicotti are a pain to make, but oh so worth it.

Also, new chapter. Nope, Harry doesn't know about the Gringotts break in yet. Short chap, stop bugging me to update XD. In all seriousness, though rule 24a of fanfiction.

Changes are still mounting, but for many characters expect dialogue to be similar to canon. Serious departure coming next chapter; since Harry isn't going to be seeker for the Gryffindors...

Ja mata.

-AXENOME


	4. 4: The Midnight Duel

"Theodore!" Harry said at breakfast, seeing the Nott boy reading a large bit of newsprint, while several other Slytherins were reading over his shoulders. "Is that the Daily Prophet?"

Harry had heard of the paper in passing before, but hadn't seen an issue before. Theodore looked up, nodded, and said, "It's interesting- says that there was a break in at Gringotts, on going investigation, all that. Come on over and read it- _everybody else is_," he commented darkly over his shoulders. The Slytherins accumulated around him didn't acknowledge the jab.

Harry shrugged to himself, set his plate down, and joined the others behind Theodore to read.

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown,_ the article began.

Harry pulled up short. "July thirty-first?"

**Slytherin**

**Book One: Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone**

**Chapter Four: "The Midnight Duel" or "Who Let the Dog In? Who? Who?"**

"Hmm? What gives on the thirty-first?" Theodore asked.

"That was my birthday," Harry said, deliberately not mentioning that he'd been to Gringotts that same day.

"Ah! That explains why I saw you in Diagon Alley that day, Potter," said Malfoy from down the table, eavesdropping. "Buying yourself some birthday presents since nobody else would?"

Harry shot an irritated look in Malfoy's direction, before snapping back, "Well, I usually buy other people presents on my birthday. I'd have gotten you some training wheels, but you already had a pair."

"Yes, too bad you've never gotten a pair, eh Potter?" Malfoy shot, getting some "Oooo"s.

"I've never needed to get them, I still have the originals," Harry bit off, getting a slightly louder chorus of "Oooo"s.

"Too bad nobody's ever seen evidence of them." The "Oooo"s got a little louder. Heads were turning back and forth from Malfoy to Harry like eyes on a tennis court.

"That's because I've never given anyone cause to wonder if they weren't there in the first place." Louder "Oooo"s still.

"I think that's quite enough of that." Professor Snape stood glaring down at them, causing everyone to shrink down a little. "Need I remind you all that you are Slytherins, not a common crowd of ruffians? Now disperse at once and take your seats, and see to it that there is no more of this sort of uncouth display in public." The unspoken subtext was the statement that airing any conflict in public was a house taboo, for reasons already well documented.

The students gathered around Theodore quickly resumed their seats at the table; the food had already been present for several minutes, and as such the eggs were beginning to get cold and a touch rubbery. Harry didn't pay much attention to it, though, still eyeing the paper that Theodore was reading. "Hey, Theo, when you're done with that, mind if I get a look at it?"

"Sure." Theo had gone back to reading and didn't look up this time.

"You know, Potter, most people actually buy their own newspapers, rather than bum them off of other people," Malfoy said, after checking to be sure Snape was out of earshot.

"I suppose, but there's this thing called friendship- friends tend to share things with one another. Try making a friend some time, you'll see what I mean," Harry said without looking at him. "Or you could ask your training wheels, I suppose."

"Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy," came Professor Snape's voice from thin air above the table, "do not assume merely because my presence is diminished that my ability to keep track of your behavior is also. I will see both of you in detention after breakfast on account of direct disregard of my instructions, seeing as there are no classes on Saturdays. You will spend the time scrubbing cauldrons and once that task is finished, I will see two feet of parchment on why one should maintain proper decorum in public from you- and you will be working together on this essay- before lunch, or the two of you will forgo lunch in favor of its completion. Dinner as well, if need be."

Harry gritted his teeth, suppressing the urge to protest. Malfoy directed a particularly unpleasant glare at Harry, but also remained silent.

The rest of the meal passed in more or less silence, although it is to be noted that Theodore passed his paper over to Harry after reading a minute or so longer. Harry took the opportunity to finish reading the article on the Gringotts break-in.

_Gringotts goblins insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.  
__"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Harry sat back a little, thinking about this. That was the same day that Hagrid had taken the only item in vault seven hundred thirteen, that package that he'd not wanted to discuss. Was that the vault that had been broken into? He'd have to see if he could talk to Hagrid, see if he could get the big man to make a slip somehow; maybe Hedwig could get a letter to him. Besides, even if Hagrid wouldn't be accepted by most of those in Slytherin, Harry still rather liked him, not the least for all he'd done for Harry so far.

Still, that would have to wait until after detention.

* * *

Detention with Malfoy had been every bit as unpleasant as Harry would have expected it to be. Malfoy made the implication that if Harry didn't do the bulk of the work, he'd sandbag and they'd miss not only lunch but also dinner. "After all, Potter, I've a few snacks to tide me over," he said snidely as he pulled out a few packs of sweets that he'd gotten by owl this morning from his family. "But... you don't... HAVE family to send you things like that, do you? Pity."

"Pity?" Harry replied, still scrubbing his assigned cauldron with a half lidded gaze. "I never knew pity my entire life growing up. I live with my aunt and uncle, who hate magic, hate wizards, and above all else, hate me. You think missing a meal or two is unusual for me? An ordeal? I can tough it out, I've done it before. And I can play that game too. Want to see if we can stretch it out til Monday breakfast, Malfoy? Want to see which of us cracks first?"

Malfoy paused in his half hearted scrubbing, looking Harry in the eyes, and seeing nothing but disdain and determination. Harry tilted his head to the side, set his brush down and leaned back against another cauldron that had yet to be touched, folding his hands behind his head. "Way I see it, we can split the pile evenly- do you good to do some honest work for a change, after all. You might be good with potions- Professor Snape says so himself- but talent is nothing without the drive to do something with it and- how did he put it? 'Put as fine an edge on it as possible' or something along those lines?" Harry smiled nastily- it felt something like the sort of smile Millicent would use. "So how about it? We can get this lot finished by ten, if we both throw our backs into it, finish the paper by twelve-thirty, and we'll be at lunch with everyone else. Professor Snape is clever, he's forcing us to work with each other where nobody can see us. I bet he figures if we can work together and cooperate here, we can do so out in public where the other houses can see us just as well. We settle everything in private in house Slytherin, remember? Never show weakness, and division is weakness."

Draco sneered at Harry for a moment, looked at Harry's skinny frame, and apparently reassessed the situation, before standing up and saying, "Well come on, then. We'll split these into two piles. Who finishes their pile last has to write everything out, whatever we decide is going to be in it."

To Harry's pleasure, and Malfoy's irritation, Harry finished his pile first, although that was mostly since Harry had already scrubbed his cauldrons more thoroughly than Malfoy had before they came to their agreement. The two of them debated a little over the contents of the parchment, but not nearly as much as Harry would have expected- the both of them, he realized, thought a little more alike than he would have guessed or been comfortable with. The paper was done only a little after twelve, with Malfoy subtly shaking out his cramping hand as the two of them stood in front of Professor Snape, who spent a good ten minutes reading over the parchment. Finally, his dark eyes flicked up at the two of them and regarded them coldly. "I see that today's lesson was not lost on either of you. And this parchment and your cooperation with one another to complete your assigned task proves to me that the both of you have an understanding, at least a little, of what I mean when I say that matters between you will be settled in the privacy of the Slytherin house. I will not tolerate a display like the one from this morning from either of you again- if it is repeated, expect your next task to be a little more... onerous. Now get out of my office; I have matters to which I must attend."

Harry eyed Malfoy dolorously, a gaze that was returned with equal dislike, as the two of them left the dungeon. If anything, that morning had caused Harry to hate Malfoy even more- and judging by Malfoy's reaction, he felt the same way.

There was no repeat, however, of the confrontation in the Great Hall again.

* * *

The following day, Sunday, Harry received response by owl from a note he'd only sent that morning.

_Dear Harry,_

_I can't tell you how happy I am that you wrote to me. I'd not expected you to want much to do with me after having got into Slytherin, since they don't tend to think much of me, what with being half giant and all. Come down around three or so, and we can have a cup of tea and you can tell me about how you're getting on in your first week._

_Hagrid_

Harry read the note with a measure of satisfaction- he was a little put out with Hagrid for assuming just because he'd joined Slytherin that Harry wouldn't talk to him anymore, but given the behaviors of many of the older Slytherins he supposed he really couldn't blame Hagrid all that much, either. Slytherins were somewhat elitist, from what Harry could see, and he hoped too much of it wasn't rubbing off on him. He made a mental note to see about looking up Cedric Diggory and his friends, and at least thanking them for their kindness on the train.

Millicent had chosen to stay behind- much to Harry's surprise- so he took a minute to look for Hermione instead. Hagrid seemed exactly the sort that she'd like- sort of like Neville, with that friendly puppy way of his- so she'd probably enjoy going down to meet him. Harry also figured Hagrid would feel better about him being a Slytherin if he could also show that he was making more friends than just Slytherins.

Making his way to the section of the castle where Gryffindor tower was, he didn't have to wait long til someone came along. Unfortunately, that someone was Ron Weasley.

"Oh, it's you. Come to spy on us?" Ron said with a sulk.

Harry frowned. "I don't know why you keep trying to make an enemy out of me, Weasley. Are you really so short sighted that you can't look past my house to find out anything about me?"

"I don't need to find out anything about you, Potter- you're a snake, and you're in a house full of snakes. So keep your poison to yourself." Ron shouldered his way past Harry and whispered something to a painting of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress, who curtseyed to him, then swung open to let Ron past.

Harry frowned. Walking up to the painting, he said, "Can I ask you a few things?"

The Fat Lady looked quizzical. "You're Mister Harry Potter, aren't you? You may, although I can't guarantee you I'll answer. There are rules, and all, of course. And you are in House Slytherin."

"I don't much care about houses, to tell you the truth." It was only a half truth, of course, but in-as-much as he'd said, it was true enough. "Can you give messages to people as they come by?"

She seemed to consider this a moment. "I can, unless it's a message that requests something against the rules, or slanderous, or spiteful. Although the latter two aren't any rules but my own."

"Can you tell me if someone is inside right now?" he asked.

"I don't see why not."

"Alright then," Harry said. "Is Miss Hermione Granger inside right now?"

"She left this morning for breakfast. She hasn't been back since, although I hear from Peeves that she enjoys most of her free time in the library."

"Thank you. I'd like you to leave a message for Ronald Weasley- and any of his family if he won't hear a message I leave him directly."

"And that message is?" she asked intently. Harry gathered by her expression she'd paid attention to the exchange between them earlier.

"My message is this: Not all snakes are poisonous or harmful. Many are quite helpful. Chasing off the good ones only hurts a garden in the long run."

She seemed to approve of this; she nodded in satisfaction. "I'll pass it on to him AND his brothers. It'd do all of them a bit of good to hear, I think."

"Thank you," Harry said. "I'm going to check the library for Miss Granger."

* * *

The library was located on the third floor, Harry was to find, closer to the Ravenclaw tower than Gryffindor. Somehow, this didn't surprise him. The library was massive, almost cavernous, and bookshelves were arrayed in such a fashion that the library turned into something of a maze. Students from every year were milling about, searching out books. One of them was a red headed wizard, fourth or fifth year. After a second of watching him, Harry noticed he was wearing a prefect's badge. If he remembered correctly, that would mean he had to be at least fifth year.

As Harry walked over to him, the red headed prefect noticed his approach, and paused in his perusal of the adjacent bookshelf. Harry felt slightly intimidated by the older boy's stern, steady gaze, but tried not to show it.

"Hello, sir," Harry began, a suspicion already formed in his mind. Red headed, freckled, and more children than they could afford, that was what Malfoy had said, wasn't it? Harry seemed to remember something about Gryffindor running in their family the way Slytherin ran in Malfoy's. "Would you be prefect for Gryffindor house?"

"I would, actually," the older boy replied. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm Percy Weasley. So you had a question for me, then?"

Harry nodded again. "Would you know who Miss Granger is?"

Percy's eyebrow shot up. "Actually, I think I do. First year, brown curly hair, reads everything in sight?"

Harry tried not to grin at this, and failed a little. "That's her. Is she in here?"

Percy smiled a knowing smile, and Harry found himself wondering if Percy was assuming something unusual. "She was over in the Transfiguration section- By what I last saw, she might be in here for some time yet. I don't think she left for lunch, at any rate. Do you know how to get there?"

Harry shook his head, thinking rapidly. Hagrid had offered tea- that might be a good way to get Hermione to come with even if she hadn't any interest in seeing Hagrid herself; more than likely she'd realize she was hungry once she wasn't buried in whatever she was reading.

"I suppose I can take you there, then- we'll both find out if she's gotten up at all since this morning."

As it turned out, she hadn't. Percy hung around for a minute or two with an odd look on his face, almost a smirk, while Harry first got her attention then brought up Hagrid's invitation. Harry mentioned he'd wanted her to know Hagrid a little more than just the towering presence he'd been on ushering them all to the castle that first night. Hermione agreed with little preamble. Apparently, Harry's guess that afternoon tea would appeal to her was spot on, since she'd missed lunch.

"Enjoy your date," Percy said as they walked out of the library.

Harry looking at him in confusion while Hermione frowned and snapped, "It's NOT a date- we're just visiting a friend of Harry's!"

Percy just smiled and nodded and waved them off, only increasing Harry's confusion and deepening Hermiones frown into a scowl.

* * *

Harry noted that they were probably a little early. Hagrid had said three, and Harry had thought it might take longer to find Hermione than it did. Even so, they made their way out the castle and across the grounds to Hagrid's house, just on the outer edge of the forbidden forest. Hung on hooks outside the door were a pair of galoshes and an enormous crossbow.

Harry gave a couple of knocks, and was rewarded with a frantic scrabbling noise and several loud, booming barks. Harry didn't feel so bad for jumping, considering Hermione jumped at least as high. Hagrid's voice rang out, "_Back,_ Fang- _back!_"

Hagrid's big hairy face appeared at the crack as the door opened a smidgeon. "Hang on a sec- BACK, Fang!"

He let them in, his massive frame rocking a bit as he held onto the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

The house only had a single room. Hams and pheasants hung from the ceiling, on the far wall in the fireplace a copper kettle was still rocking from having been hung over the fire a minute or less ago, and in the corner was a massive bed with a patchwork quilt. Harry noticed that the corner of the quilt appeared to be slightly singed.

"Make yerselves at home- an sorry about the tea not bein ready yet an all, yer a bit sooner than I'd expected." Hagrid let go of Fang's collar, who almost immediately bounded over to Harry and Hermione, licking each of their faces in turn. Hermione giggled and tried to hold the big dog off, with no success, while Harry simply grinned and bore it. At least, he did until the dog managed to catch Harry in the mouth with a particularly slobbery slurp, at which point Harry gagged and protested a little.

"So, ah, Hagrid, this is Hermione," Harry said. "I brought her along because I figured the two of you'd get on well with each other."

"Hermione, was it?" asked Hagrid from where he was piling some roundish biscuits of some sort onto a large plate. "Aren't you the one what was with tha' lad who kept losin' 'is toad?"

"Yes, that was me." Hermione's tone was straight, with no pride or hesitance. "And both you and Harry made sure he didn't lose it for long. It was very nice of you."

"Ah, well," Hagrid began, a little shyly as he worked, "I been groundskeeper fer a number o'years, now, an 'e isn' the firs' lad along what's 'ad trouble with a new familiar, ye know. Wasn' anythin'big, jus' 'elpin out."

"Well, it may not have seemed like much to either of YOU, but _he_ certainly appreciated it," Hermione said primly. Harry and Hermione sat down as Fang seemed to calm a little; Fang almost immediately rested his head on Hermione's knee and began drooling on her leg. She bore this with admirable fortitude, Harry thought.

The tea boiled quickly, and within a few minutes Hagrid too was seated with them, Fang having switched pillows from Hermione to Harry at this point, and evidently found Harry to be more comfortable, judging by the fact that the big dog was fast asleep. The biscuits Hagrid had laid out were called rock cakes, fairly shapeless lumps with raisins that jarred Harry's teeth with each bite, but he pretended to enjoy them. If Hermione was pretending or not was a question in Harry's mind, although considering she hadn't eaten since that morning Harry supposed it was possible. Hunger, as Harry well knew, made nearly anything that was edible, more palatable.

Harry made mention of Filch; Hagrid referred to him as "that old git," much to Harry's delight and Hermione's scandal.

"He's miserable, you know," Hermione scolded, "on account as he can't use magic but works in a place devoted to it."

Harry wondered if everyone in the school knew that Filch was a Squib. Hagrid's reply, however, got both of the kids to thinking. "Aye, it's true enough that 'e can't use magic, but there's plenty out there what can't- Muggle parents, Squibs, an'-" He cut off, his eyes shooting to his umbrella. "Not bein' able or allowed ter is no excuse fer turnin' into a bitter ol prune an' takin' it out on others."

Harry went on, talking about Snape's class in potions where Snape had singled him out, as well as Harry's small victory in getting a measure of approval. "Eh, don' take it personally, Harry, 'e don't care much fer any students."

"I don't know, Hagrid- he's paid an awful lot of attention to me for it to be nothing personal..." Harry mumbled. Hermione looked at him quizzically.

"Eh, I can't imagine any reason fer that," Hagrid said, although Harry noticed he'd broken eye contact as he said it. "So how're the both of ye likin'classes? Any of em that stand out for ye?"

Hermione immediately began talking about Herbology- admittedly one class which Harry hadn't enjoyed too terribly much. He'd stick by it, however, due to the obvious applications in Potions. Still, he wondered if Hagrid hadn't changed the subject on purpose.

As Hermione talked, Harry looked around the room, before reaching for another rock cake, and accidentally knocking it off the plate. Picking it up, his eye caught sight of a newspaper clipping sitting partially under one of the tea cozies. Lifting the edge of the cozy, he read the title, "**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**."

Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion; a cursory glance confirmed it as the same article as he'd read the day before from Theo's paper.

Harry said nothing as Hermione and Hagrid continued to talk, apparently oblivious, but he was certain now that the break in and Hagrid's package retrieval were related.

As Harry and Hermione were headed back to the castle, on their way to dinner, Harry noted with surprise that Hermione was nibbling on one of the rock cakes Hagrid had insisted they take with them. Noticing Harry's glance, Hermione said, "They're fairly nice- a little tough, but I love raisins."

Harry filed this away for future reference, and began thinking back on the visit. Had Hagrid fetched his package just in the nick of time? And what was in it?

And what did Hagrid know about Snape that he didn't want to tell?

* * *

Thursday was Flying with Madam Hooch. Malfoy had been talking about it all week, bragging about how he'd be playing Quidditch on the team next year. Honestly, Harry wished he'd shut up about it. Malfoy also made mention that most wizarding families gave their kids a head start on brooms, and expressed sympathy to those unfortunate enough to not be brought up with a wizarding family in that regard. Harry said nothing, but he knew it was a cheap shot aimed at him. For a moment he reflected on the Gryffindor house, and how lucky it was that they only shared Potions and Flying lessons with Slytherin. He wondered if he could ask for a transfer just to get a moment's peace from Draco.

On the other hand, he was learning so much about one-ups-manship just from hanging around in the Slytherin common room; he wasn't sure he wanted to give that up to be thrown into a lot of boorish, headstrong Grifs. Hermione excepted, of course. The thought pulled him up short; he was starting to sound a bit like Ron Weasley. House wasn't as important as the person- one only had to look at Hermione, Cedric, or Millicent to see that. Harry resolved that some time in the future he should thank Ron for pointing that out to him, even if it was only as an object lesson.

Even so, he thought ruefully, in some cases house stereotypes seemed to be spot on. The thought was at the forefront of his mind as the lot of them stood in front of Madam Hooch, who had lined them up in two rows of ten next to a similar array of brooms on the smooth, flat lawns almost the opposite side of the Forbidden Forest. The day was slightly breezy, with a clear sky, and the grass rippled nicely in the wind.

Hermione, over by the other Gryffindors, looked incredibly nervous, as did Neville, who was still hanging alongside her.

Harry glanced down at his broom, which was old and had frayed broomstraws sticking out at odd angles.

"Hold your right hand over your broom," called out Madam Hooch, "and say, 'up!'"

"Up!"everyone shouted, Harry included.

Harry felt a surge of delight as his broom sprang straight up into his hand, noticing that Theodore's broom had sort of bounced a little but not come to his hand, and Milli didn't get any sort of response at all. After everyone managed to get a response, Madam Hooch then demonstrated the proper fashion by which to mount a broom, before going up and down the rows to correct everyone's grips.

Malfoy was a bit stubborn about it. "I've been holding my broom like this since I was seven years old- it lets me reduce drag and move faster."

"Your broom compensates for such things as drag, but holding like this will fling you off the front if your broom clips anything in flight,"the instructor retorted.

"But I've been doing it like this for years!"Draco protested.

"And for years, you've been doing it wrong! Now correct your grip or sit off to the side!"

Harry didn't know what was more satisfying- Malfoy getting pulled up short or the expression on his face as he complied. From what he could see, Ron and a few of the Gryffindors felt the same way.

"Now," Madam Hooch called out, as she marched to the front of their formation, "when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady to rise up from the ground a few feet, then come straight down by leaning forward on your broom slightly. Keep your grip steady and your hands the same distance from the center of your chest to maintain control. On my whistle, Three- Two-"

A chorus of gasps announced Neville jumping the gun, pushing off before the whistle touched Madam Hooch's lips. He looked as surprised about it as everyone else did.

"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted, but Neville continued to rise, twelve feet, twenty, before his grip slipped and he tumbled to the ground. The broom drifted off higher and higher, floating away over and into the forbidden forest.

Madam Hooch bent over Neville, and Harry couldn't hear much, but after a minute she helped him to his feet. Tears were streaming down his face as he cradled his arm to his chest, and both he and Madam Hooch were white as sheets. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing. I mean it! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Madam Hooch slung her arm around Neville and escorted him off towards the castle.

No sooner was Madam Hooch out of sight and earshot than Malfoy crowed out, "Did you see his face, the great lump?" Most of the Slytherins began laughing with him, although Harry took note that his clique- Millicent and Theodore- and one other didn't join in the mocking laughter. Milli and Theo instead looked to Harry, as though expecting him to do something, and the last one- Harry seemed to recall his name being Blaise or something like that- had a bored look on his face that clearly dismissed Draco as a showboating idiot.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" snapped a Gryffindor girl, who Harry couldn't remember the name of.

Pansy Parkinson apparently remembered though. "Ooo, sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought YOU'D like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" Yelled out Draco as he darted forward, picking something up out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's Gran sent him." Something glittered between Malfoy's fingers.

"Give that here, Draco!" yelled Hermione, stomping over to him.

"Hey Granger, I hear you like it when Slytherins help people. I think I'll help the lump learn to fly a little faster- I'll give him a bit of motivation, leave it up in a tree for him!"

"Hey Draco!" Harry called as Malfoy started up- Malfoy paused, eyeing Harry warily. "I've a better idea- I'll flip you for it."

"Ha!" Malfoy said with a snort. "What do I get if you lose the flip?"

Harry grinned, holding up a gold coin. "If I lose the flip, you keep the galleon."

Malfoy snickered. "Alright then Potter, I don't mind you buying me a couple butterbeers. I call heads."

All eyes watched as the galleon tumbled end over end, Malfoy still on the broom. Harry slapped the coin down onto the back of his hand and kept it covered. "Before we find out if it's heads or tails, though, you decide now- I mean NOW- if it's one flip or two out of three."

Malfoy smiled. "One flip takes it."

"Final choice? No take backs." Harry prompted.

"Show the coin, Potter!" Malfoy called out.

Harry lifted his covering hand, showing the wand and chalice on the reverse of the galleon- tails. Malfoy grumbled and tossed the thing down to Harry- it was an interesting looking object, like a glass marble full of smoke. Harry smiled. "Thanks, Malfoy." Harry pocketed the object, noting from the corner of his eye Hermione seemed torn. Harry tossed her a quick wink, which she noted with a smile that she tried to hide before looking forward. Turning his attention back to Malfoy, he said, "You know, you actually are pretty good on that thing, Draco- at least, just hanging in mid air like that. Can you do more?"

Draco laughed mockingly, doing a swift dart up, then a loop in air. "More than you'll ever manage, Potter!"

_What would I have done if I lost the coin flip, I wonder? _Harry thought to himself. _Eh, guess I'd've thought of something else._

"What did I tell you?!" demanded Madam Hooch suddenly as she descended on the group like a hawk. "Two points from Slytherin, Mister Malfoy- and I'll see you in the headmaster's office after classes today!"

This immediately earned Malfoy dirty looks from everyone in Slytherin save for Crabbe and Goyle, though even they didn't look too happy with him. Harry warred a bit internally about the lost points versus having successfully stalled Malfoy with the coin toss and stroking his ego, enough to get him in trouble and not have any way it could come back at him. Harry settled for satisfaction, while the class went through drills that Harry managed to get right the first time, every time. It felt natural to him- completely free. He couldn't wait for the next class- and as an added bonus, knowing Malfoy was sitting off on the sidelines. Although flying didn't really need the bonus, it was incredible enough as it was.

* * *

Milli and Theo had taken to flanking Harry at the Slytherin table, and Harry was glad for it that evening as Draco sat down opposite them at the table. Crabbe and Goyle had been waiting near the doors to the Great Hall for him to arrive. Draco planted his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his folded hands. "I really underestimated you, Potter. I mean, really. That was a slick bit of work there. Got me to get myself in trouble and came out smelling like a rose. Very Slytherin of you, I must admit."

Harry gave him a sloe eyed smile and calmly looked up in the direction of the teacher's table, where Snape was watching them like a hawk. Harry just knew, _just knew_, that if he gave a response Professor Snape would lay into them much as promised. And he knew just as sure, that if he said nothing, Snape would let it go. So instead, Harry reached out and picked up a roll, which he smeared with herb butter and took a satisfying bite out of. "Have some dinner, Malfoy. You'll feel better with some food in you."

Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be assessing the exchange rather astutely, making Harry eye them rather closely. A week and a half in Slytherin had shown Harry already that the two of them were not especially smart, but had a canny knack for telling which way the wind was blowing. Harry suddenly had a notion that perhaps they were reconsidering their allegiances- after all, in the little war between them Harry had come out on top or even in just about every encounter.

The two of them had a strong urge to ally with whoever they saw as the winning side, and Malfoy was losing rather badly.

Draco also grabbed a roll, the last one of the basket which Harry had taken his. "Hmm. A bit cold. Still, some things are better that way, I suppose."

Harry smiled slightly, acknowledging the subtext- that this was not over, and Draco was not yet acknowledging defeat.

On their way back to the common room, Malfoy and his training wheels moved off to a side chamber in the dungeons, before the actual house itself. Malfoy waved Harry over, and almost like a machine Milli and Theo took up positions to either side of him as he followed.

"Put it like this Potter, you're clever. I'll give you that. But I'm the stronger wizard, I promise you. You really want to tangle with me, we can tangle and I won't mind a bit. So here's the deal. Wizard's duel, tonight, wands only- no contact. The trophy room on the third floor, midnight. That is... if you still have the original pair you were on about last week."

"I'm his second!" snapped Millicent.

"You? Why you?" protested Theo. "I'll be his second."

"Flip a coin," Harry said, holding a galleon over his shoulder without taking his eyes off Draco. "It's worked out alright for us so far."

Draco snarled a little more, while Theo and Milli laughed at this. Harry had no idea what a second was, but asked, "So who's yours?"

Draco assessed the two boys carefully, before saying, "Crabbe will be. Don't be a coward, Potter- Slytherin gets enough of that sort of image as it is."

Harry, Milli, and Theo watched as the opposing trio walked on to enter the Slytherin common room.

Milli turned to face Harry. "You know there's going to be some sort of catch. Malfoy is a git, but he's a crafty git."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Think I'll feel better getting there early, or I'll likely catch a wand in the back."

Harry paused, before asking, "By the way, what's a second?"

* * *

The coin toss ended up with Theo as his second. Milli stayed back in the common room, while Harry and Theo went up to the trophy room. Milli was specifically to keep an eye out for if all three of them came instead of just Crabbe and Malfoy, that way, she could come in by surprise if they tried to outnumber Harry's side.

Meanwhile, Harry and Theo found themselves looking around the trophy room cautiously in case anyone came by. House cups, trophies of many different types, busts and team paintings all stood or hung proudly on display. The room held hundred of years of victories, and Harry felt a bit of pride in the fact that nearly a third of them were Slytherin.

Time ticked by slowly, and Theo seemed to feel a need to fill the silence with conversation.

"So I've heard from my brother that you were a muggle raised. That true?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, my aunt and uncle. Not too terribly pleasant sorts."

"Must be odd over there. I hear they don't even have brooms, and nobody's ever heard of Quidditch."

Harry nodded again. "Yeah. Don't know much about it still myself, except Malfoy thinks he's going to be the whipped cream of any apple tart team he joins."

Theodore snorted. "It's possible, you know. Even if you did get him nailed for breaking the rules, he is good on a broom. Once he's old enough to join next year, he'll make it for sure onto the Slytherin team."

Harry gave a snort of his own. "None of what he did looked all that difficult- I could probably do it, brooms are easy. Don't see how anyone has any trouble with them, frankly."

"Easy for you to say,"Theo shot back, a light of challenge in his eyes. "I'll hold you to that if he didn't get expelled from Hogwarts. Though he probably just got a warning, considering his dad's money and influence."

Harry shrugged. "How long til he gets here, you think?"

Theo looked at his watch. "Well, it's almost midnight now, he should be here any-"

They both stopped whispering as they heard a noise. Harry looked over at Theo, who shrugged. Just as Harry was about to draw his wand and announce his presence, a voice spoke up- and it wasn't Malfoy. "Sniff around, Mrs Norris, my sweet- he promised we'd catch them out here, and they may still be lurking."

Theo was wide eyed looking at Harry with a cross between desperation and accusation in his eyes. Harry glanced about the chamber carefully and noticed the door to the back of the room- it'd be a longer trip to the dungeons, but it was away from Filch. Harry jerked his head in the direction of that door, and the two of them began creeping off towards it.

"Where are you," Filch crooned nastily. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

Harry and Theo bit their lips and kept creeping, as they fairly well felt Filch getting closer.

Harry's robe brushed lightly against a pedestal, making a soft whispering noise.

"Ha!" shouted Filch triumphantly as he began running towards the sound. Harry and Theo likewise bolted, rushing past tall armor stands and tapestries, in a headlong panic. Harry turned a quick left, Theo on his heels, and stumbled into a wall faking as a door.

"Blast!" Harry muttered, turning and running face first into the edge of a tapestry, behind which there was an open corridor. Theo saw it first, grabbed Harry by the collar, and dragged him behind the tapestry, where the two of them continued their flight. The corridor suddenly opened out into the hallway in front of the Charms classroom, which was miles from the Trophy room. Theo leaned on his knees tiredly, before looking over at Harry. "He foxed you, Harry. That had set up written all over it."

Harry shook his head, irritated. "He foxed you too, you know."

Theo grabbed Harry by the collar and pushed him up against the wall. "Yes, he did- but I'm not the leader. _You_ are. And you did the same thing to him that he did to you- _you underestimated _him. Milli told you before, he's a git, but a crafty one. If we get back to the dungeons, without getting busted, this is at best a draw- not a win for us, because he suckered us. But to get even that draw, we still _have to get back uncaught._ We- oh bloody hell."

The last portion of Theo's rant was cut off as something came shooting out of a classroom just down the hall- Harry gave a mental groan as he realized it was Peeves.

Peeves caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight. "Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties?" he sing songed, drifting around them. "Tut tut tut. Naughty naughty, you'll get caughty!"

"Peeves,"Harry began in a low tone, "let us be. You'll get us in trouble."

This was the wrong thing to say. At the mention of the word "trouble," Peeves bellowed out, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Harry cursed and ran, ducking under Peeves, with Theo right on his heels. They darted down to the end of the hallway- only one door. And it was locked.

"Bugger! Now what?" Harry cursed, as he could hear Filch shouting in the distance, getting closer.

"I've got this one," Theo said with a grin, as he pulled what appeared to be a bone of some sort from inside his sleeve. The bone shimmered, taking on a metallic cast, then with a click Theo twisted it to the right, and the door unlocked.

"What the devil-" Harry began, but Theo cut him off.

"Skeleton key. My brother learned how to make them when he was in auror training- I lifted one from his stash this summer. Let's go!"

The two of them fairly tumbled into the room, shutting the door as quickly and quietly as they could manage.

Harry planted his ear against the door, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves? Quick, tell me." Filch was saying. Harry heard Theo make a strangled squeaking noise.

"Say please."

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now tell me- _which way did they go?_"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," Peeves said in his annoying, sing-song voice.

"Alright! _Please!_"

"NOTHING! Ha haaaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha haaaa!" Harry heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing venomously.

"He thinks the door is locked," Harry muttered. "As long as we sit tight here, he'll go away and we're home free."

Harry felt a hand grip the top of his head and force it to turn to look into the room- except it wasnt a room. It was a corridor. And suddenly he understood exactly why Dumbledore had said not to get into this corridor, because there, blinking balefully, was a monstrous dog. It filled the corridor from floor to ceiling. It had three heads, three pairs of bloodshot eyes just rousing from sleep, three sets of jaws slavering with ropey saliva strung between huge, yellow fangs. It was standing quite still, apparently still waking up, and likely the only reason the two of them were still alive, but it was clearly getting over that lethargy if the thunderous growls were any indicator. Harry and Theo yanked the door open, and immediately shut it with themselves on the other side. Filch was already gone, apparently having departed to search out other environs, but Harry and Theo were beyond caring about detention at this point. They ran the full distance from the third floor to the dungeons, barely stopping to give the password "dignity" before careening into the common room. They fairly collapsed on the slick, marble floor, panting heavily. Harry chuckled breathlessly. "Think it's a draw, then."

Theo huffed an exhausted laugh. "Yes, yes I think you're right."

Milli crept into the hallway from the common area, looking at the two boys critically. "They never left. They chickened out after all, it seems."

Theo snorted, looked over at Harry, and grinned. "Next time, Miss Bulstrode, you're his second."

Millicent had no idea why that was funny.

"Theo, did something seem off about that hallway to you?" Harry asked after a second.

"What, you mean besides the giant, three headed dog and the trapdoor it was standing on?" Theo replied sarcastically. "I know exactly what you mean, Harry, those curtains were exactly the wrong shade of puce."

Harry snorted, and said, "Wonder where the switch was to open the trapdoor. I'd have felt a bit safer having that at hand."

"No, it was a lifting type, not a drop through kind. Like for hiding things. I almost want to find out what it was guarding in there."

Harry grunted, pretty sure he knew what was under that trapdoor: the package from vault seven thirteen, or else the contents of it.

Now if he only knew why.

**End Chapter Four**

AN: Yada yada. Generic Author's Note here, not like anybody reads these damn things anyhow.

Ja Mata.

-AXENOME


	5. 5: Halloween

AN: Reloaded for formatting issues.

* * *

Malfoy's expression of dumbfounded dismay on seeing Harry and Theo looking perfectly fine and unpunished made the close encounter with the three headed dog completely worth it. Harry's knowing grin and wink seemed to only exaggerate the emotion. "Funny watching Filch chase his tail after his imagination," Harry commented idly in front of Draco. "It's like he was expecting a meeting of some sort."

"Speaking of meeting," Theo replied, deliberately not looking at Malfoy and his comrades, "how did yours go last night, Harry?"

Harry grinned nastily at the blonde Slytherin, and answered, "Guess the other party had something pressing come up, a prior engagement. I'd hate to think he was a coward- or else, that incompetent at planning ahead."

Crabbe and Goyle shared a look between them as they fell in behind Malfoy, who was too angry by now to take notice. But Harry noticed it, and he was sure that Millicent and Theodore did as well. Throwing an arm around either of them, who both seemed highly uncertain what to do about it for a second, Harry led his clique on down to the Great Hall in front of all the other Slytherins.

Harry took the time to hang back at the entrance of the Great Hall to wait for a couple of people. The first, of course, was Malfoy. Draco's face had congealed into a countenance clearly demanding silently to know how they'd gotten out of it last night. Harry was feeling generous enough to answer. "Nice having friends you can count on, hmm Draco? Saves from having to see to everything yourself."

* * *

Slytherin

Book One: Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone

Chapter Five: "Halloween" or "How to Troll a Wizard"

* * *

Malfoy started a glare, then straightened up and gave Harry a mocking salute. "I'm getting your number, Potter. And all I need is one clear shot."  
Harry smiled, not really feeling it, and wondering what Malfoy would come up with next. As luck would have it, though, the other people he was waiting for came

hrough the entryway- Hermione, and along behind her as always, Neville. Harry stopped them, and with a wink at Draco, pulled the smokey marble thing out of his pocket, before tossing it to Neville.

"My Remembrall!" Neville exclaimed. "Thank you, Harry!"

Harry just shook his head and grinned at Draco, pulling out the Galleon he'd gotten back from Milli the night before and casually flipped it in the air. "No big deal, Neville- didn't cost me a thing, after all."

Hermione looked star struck, Neville had an expression of hero worship, and Malfoy looked almost apocalyptic.

Harry took that moment to casually walk to the Slytherin table, although not before making a quick stop at the Hufflepuffs where Cedric, Sasha, and Alex were already seated. The three of them looked up at where Harry stood, looking far less pleased to see him than they had been on the train. Harry was determined he was going to try and change that, at least a little. "Cedric, Sasha, Alex, I never got to properly thank you for helping me out on the way here. I think... I think that I'd be doing a lot poorer here so far without your examples."

Cedric furrowed his brow a little, considering this. After a minute, he said, "Well, I'm happy I was able to help."

Harry nodded, smiling a bit more. "I'd like you to meet my friends, Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott. They're also Slytherins, but they're the good sort- kind of like I'm trying to be. You mentioned how Hufflepuffs always have each other's backs- well these two, they've got my back, and I've got theirs. Just like I'll have your backs, if you ever need me. Don't really know how much help I'll be, of course, but I'll be there for you if I can be." Harry felt awkward here, not really sure how to go on. He wasn't sure he was really conveying his message well, and was starting to feel uncomfortable at the steady gaze the three older students were giving him and his comrades. After a few seconds which felt like an eternity, Sasha gave a big grin. "I think hat made mistake two weeks ago, maybe should see if can get resized for little Potter here."

Alex smiled along with Sasha, and Cedric followed suit a moment after. "Alright, then Potter. Harry. We're not liable to run across each other much in classes, but if you ever need tutoring on something, I'll give it the old Hogwarts try."

"And Harry?" called out Alex as Harry, Milli, and Theo started to turn towards their tables. "Make sure you really do take care of them. Loyalty runs both ways."

Harry paused, nodded, and meant it. "I will. See you guys later."

Theo and Millicent were looking at Harry funny as the three of them sat down. Harry let it be for a few minutes, then decided to ask. "What's the big deal?"

The pair looked at one another, then back at Harry. Apparently, they'd decided wordlessly for Milli to be the spokesperson. "You almost sounded like a Puff back there when talking to those three," Milli said. "What's with all that?"

Harry shrugged, and started talking in low tones. "You know, the day of the train trip out here, I spoke to someone at the station." Harry flicked his eyes at Theo, and noticed that Theo seemed to get it. "You see, he said that Houses were a lot of things, but that the traits that were what got you sorted into a house weren't always the only ones in a person, just the ones that tended to stand out the most. I think I'd have done fairly well in the Puffs. But there's something else for you both to consider. Professor Snape said that none of the houses have a monopoly on any of their standout traits. Frankly, without Cedric and his lot backing me up on the train- kind of the way that you guys always back me, in fact- I'd be a lot worse off in dealing with Malfoy. Just cause they're Puffs doesn't mean we can't learn from them. I did. I'm better off for it. And now, they're likely to become as good of allies for me as Hermione and that Neville boy are on their way to being."

Theo sat back a moment, digesting this, while Milli murmured back in tones just as quiet, "But what good is a sad little sot like Neville going to be? He's clumsy and not much good for anything, near as I can tell."

"Maybe not- at least, not right now. But so what? Now isn't the same as later." Harry began peeling an orange, before sectioning it off and splitting it between the three of them. "You see, a few years ago, I was a bit like Longbottom. Always picked on, never felt like I was much good at anything either. Yet after I learned something good about myself- that I was magical, that I was a wizard, I found out sharp and quick what I was good at. Now look at me. I'm doing fairly well for myself, and I'm still only just beginning. I suspect Neville is going to be the same way- but even if he isn't, if he never gets any better than the person he is now, he's still not a wasted investment."

Harry waited, here, knowing one of them would take the bait. Milli, of course, was the one to bite at it. "How do you mean, he's not a wasted effort?"

"Simple: Miss Hermione Granger." Harry's satisfied tone as he popped another wedge of orange in his mouth was fairly self evident. "She's a smart one, her. Don't know why she was sorted into Gryffindor, honestly, because as near as I can tell she's smarter than anyone we've seen from Ravenclaw in our year. She's certainly willing to hone that edge, as Professor Snape would put it. You already know that, Milli, we've all shared notes together, and it's done all three of us good." Milli grudgingly nodded at this, and Harry wondered briefly about what provoked her continued reluctance. Harry went on, "Neville has attached himself to her, and she takes care of him. Kind of like a puppy, and it never hurts to be nice to someone's puppy, right? Just between you and me, I suspect that puppy is going to be a good sized rottweiler in a few years. Helping him now will get us in his good graces later- but it will also get us in hers, and we all know for certain she's going to be a worthwhile ally both now and later." Theo nodded wholeheartedly, with Milli nodding along after a second as well.

Harry felt a small victory over this. "We can repair the reputation of Slytherin, get allies across the board, and stay secure in our positions for all of our time here at Hogwarts this way. I honestly think this is our very best option."

"Potter," said a voice from behind Harry that got all three of them to start a bit. Looking over his shoulder, Harry saw two completely unexpected faces: Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry blinked at them, before asking, "Yeah? Something I can do for you two?"

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a glance, before Goyle asked, "Been meaning to ask you, since neither of us are muggles or lived with them. What are 'training wheels' anyhow?"

Harry blinked at them again, before he said, "Oh, they're for a muggle device called a bicycle. It's got two wheels, one in front, one in back, and the person riding it balnces on them to go from one place to another. It's sort of like a ground version of a broom."

"Sounds hard to keep it upright without magic," Theo commented, looking at Harry in puzzlement.

"Well, that's what the training wheels are for," Harry said with a smile. "They're extra wheels meant to hold it upright to make little kids think they're riding safely, but without letting them hurt themselves. It gets them used to riding until they learn how to balance it by themselves."

Millicent's hand shot to her mouth and she began to giggle. "Oh! And they're the ones making sure little Draco doesn't hurt himself while he pretends to be a wizard! Oh, Harry, that's just wonderful!" And her giggles degenerated into full on laughs.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, pretty much."

Harry looked back at Crabbe and Goyle, expecting them to be offended somewhat, but instead saw them appraising each other thoughtfully. "Makes sense," murmured Crabbe softly. Crabbe then turned to look at Harry and his friends and said, "Thanks, Potter."

Harry's brow wrinkled a bit as the two of them walked back towards the entry to the dining hall, only to stop as Draco called from his seat, "Oy, where're you two going?"

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a smirk, before Goyle answered, "Sorry Draco, didn't mean to leave you alone." The two of them walked back to the table, each taking a side next to Malfoy.

"What's all that about, then?" Theo asked in a low tone to Harry.

Millicent was the one to answer, though. "I think that Malfoy is losing his training wheels."

* * *

Between Harry's impromptu, extra study groups- which now not only included Milli and Hermione, but also Theodore and Neville Longbottom- and Harry's determination to extend his successes so far in Potions to every class he took, the next six weeks flew by. It took him almost by surprise when he realized that today was Halloween. Classes were becoming progressively easier- with the basics under them as solidly as Harry and Hermione could drive it into them all, the things that came next sprang more naturally. The group was rapidly beginning to stand out in all their classes, not the least of which because Harry asked for Cedric to give them all the occasional tutoring and hints from time to time.

Harry's group was three strong already before leaving the Slytherin common room; halfway to the Great Hall they were joined by Hermione and Neville, who would rush to the courtyard to meet up with them there. Harry had asked Dumbledore personally one afternoon for permission for cross house seating at the Slytherin table for Neville and Hermione, who'd gotten a great deal of hassle from their fellow Gryffindors for their repeated close association with Harry and the rest of his Slytherin friends. After pointing out that the pair had done nothing wrong but ignore house affiliation in their pursuit of friends, and were receiving a good bit of unfriendliness from their supposed "family" in Hogwarts for it, Dumbledore had hesitantly extended permission for the pair to sit at the Slytherin table. From that point forward, neither of them sat at the Gryffindor table, instead staying with Harry and his clique. At first there had been some dirty looks from some of the older students in Slytherin, but those looks hit a unified front of five first-year students who had no compunctions about sending those looks right back. Harry openly stated that letting house rivalries get in the way of solid working relationships was not only shortsighted but terribly wasteful, and pointed to the high grades that the five of them were achieving because of that association. Afterwards, none of the Slytherins said a thing, although Blaise Zabini refused still to associate with Harry or his crowd in any capacity, calling Harry a half blood, and Milli and Theo blood traitors, whatever that meant. He refused to even acknowledge that Hermione existed, ignoring anything she said and talking over her if he felt like it. Harry gave up Blaise as a lost cause despite his obvious disdain for Draco Malfoy.

Today, as Halloween, the hallways were inundated with the smell of pumpkin recipes of all sorts, and in Charms, Professor Flitwick announced that they were all ready to begin making objects fly. Harry couldn't wait; he'd been fascinated by the brooms from Flying lessons, and desperately wanted to know what it was that made them tick.

Just as Potions was together with Gryffindors on Fridays, Thursdays Charms was shared with Ravenclaw. Terry Boot was trying to catch Harry's eye, as Professor Flitwick instructed them all to break up into pairs. Harry briefly considered avoiding him, then decided he may as well give Terry a shot.

Professor Flitwick gave them all feathers to float. "Now don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" he squeaked joyously from atop his book perch, much as he always did. "Swish and flick, swish and flick! Enunciate well, never forget the tragic tale of the Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and wound up with a buffalo on his chest!"

It was much harder than Harry had anticipated. Terry Boot managed to get the feather to drift upwards for a half second, before he lost concentration and it settled back to the desk. Harry couldn't get the thing to move at all for about ten minutes.

"Well, Potter- seems you aren't perfect at everything you try to do, after all," Terry commented, teasing he feather upwards shakily with a muttered incantation, "Wingardium leviosa."

Harry was carefully listening to Terry's intonation as he watched, when Terry finally let the feather fall. Summoning up all the focus he could, Harry managed to get the feather off the desk an inch or so, before it sank back down. "Not the first time, no," Harry replied, still staring at the feather, "but I tend to learn quickly once I get the notion of it through my head."

Terry nodded, and said, "So I hear you have a study group that doesn't care what house people are from."

Harry nodded, trying again with the feather. It was steadier this time, and rose fairly smoothly. It rose about three inches up before tilting to one side and floating down diagonally off the desk. Harry reached down and put it back on the desk.

"So do you have room for another?" Terry prompted.

"Sure," Harry said, looking up from the feather. "All you needed to do was ask."

* * *

At the Halloween feast that evening, thousands of bats fluttered from walls and over the tables. The feast appeared across the table in a fashion similar to the start of year banquet. Yet despite the splendor and flash, Harry was distracted.

Harry had noticed that Hermione was absent. Neville was there, but he looked distinctly uncomfortable without Hermione along with him. When asked what happened, he mentioned something about a blow up with Ron Weasley in Charms class.

First-year Charms class for Gryffindors was shared with Hufflepuffs, directly after the class for Ravens and Slytherins. Harry decided to head over to the Hufflepuff table to get the straight story, since he doubted he'd hear it unbiased from Ron- if Ron would talk about it at all.

As it turned out, Justin Finch-Fletchley recounted the tale, that Hermione had been the first in the class to successfully float the feather. After doing so, Ron had apparently blown up at her, saying that no matter how hard she studied, she'd never find anything about how to get real friends, and the closest thing she'd ever get was the group of slimy snakes who were just using her to boost their own grades.

She'd apparently left the class in tears, and not shown up for the next one. Someone heard someone else say they'd heard third hand that she was in the girls' bathroom near Charms class, crying.

Harry was furious. He shot a glare across the room at the Gryffindor table so hard it was a wonder they didn't spontaneously ignite. As Harry began stalking over to the table, with Milli and Theo, and belatedly Neville and Terry in tow, Professor Quirrell burst into the room, turban askance and looking completely terrorized. All eyes were on him as he made his way disoriented to the Teachers' Table.

"Troll- in the dungeons- thought you should know," he stammered out, staggering up to Dumbledore's chair, before falling in a dead faint.

Pandemonium broke out. Dumbledore launched several purple firecrackers, getting everyone's attention. "Prefects, lead your houses back to dormitories immediately!"  
Prefects began sounding out- near to the Hufflepuff table, a prefect ordered Harry and his comrades back to Slytherin, then paid them no mind, Harry gave the others a significant look, before falling in at the end of the Gryffindor table.

Perfect, Harry thought to himself. It's that one from the library.

Bringing up the rear of the Gryffindor group, was indeed the red headed prefect Percy Weasley. The five first years followed the Gryffindor line up right out- in the chaos, nobody seemed to notice. Part of the way to Gryffindor tower, Harry chose the opportune moment to tug on Percy's robe. "Percy! I'm so glad we found you- we're lost, we need to get to the Slytherin dorms!"

Percy pulled up short, his mouth working soundlessly like a drowning fish. After a moment's spluttering, he said, "you've been here two months and you still get lost- Ugh, there's no time, you'll have to come with us to Gryffindor tower. You can't be wandering the halls right now, there's no telling where that troll might've gotten off to."

Harry shot a pointed look at Neville, who was blinking at them, then suddenly burst out, "But Hermione's still out here!"

Percy had a look of horror on his face. "What?"

"She never made it to dinner! She was out here somewhere," he said, sniffling.

"Where?" Percy demanded. "Do you have any idea where she went?"

Neville shook his head; Harry realized that Neville must not have been close enough to hear what Terry told him. Harry stepped forward, and said, "I heard that she was crying in the girls bathroom near the Charms classroom."

Percy looked up at the hallways, did some quick mental math, and looked back at Harry with narrowed eyes. "You weren't lost at all, were you? You stopped me exactly here, just so we could go and get her, didn't you?" Percy's jaw worked, angrily. "This isn't over, Mister Potter- not for any of you. Dumbledore will hear of this. Get to the Gryffindor tower with-" Percy looked up again and realized that while he'd been talking with them, the rest of the Gryffindor lineup had continued on. "Dammit, you sneaky little- Oh lord, McGonagall will have my badge for this. Come on, you lot, stick close- we can't afford to split up."

Percy moved quickly but cautiously- every corner they rounded, he checked first, wand at the ready. It was Milli who smelled it first, although everyone caught whiff of it in seconds- Percy went pale and looked as though he was going to faint for a second, breaking out into a sweat, but he merely shoved the first years behind himself as he moved forward, eyes darting from side to side in the corridor. The smell was something like a blend of old, unwashed socks and the sort of public restroom one finds in a particularly run down fast food place. The smell was accompanied by a low grunting kind of noise, and the shuffle thump of massive feet. Rounding one slight bend in the hallway brought the thing into full view- twelve feet tall, with dull, granite gray skin. Its body was lumpy and massive, with an almost comically small head perched on top like a hulled coconut on a boulder. It had thick, stumpy legs with horned, crusty feet, and arms long enough that the dragging, wooden club it carried was almost parallel to the ground. Pointed ears waggled as its tiny mind considered the door in front of it, ajar, before leaning down and making its way inside.

Percy swore sulfurously. "That's the girls' bathroom!" he shouted, dashing forward with his wand at the ready.

Harry and, stunningly enough, Neville ran forward; the others hung back until it was clear that Harry had no intentions of stopping. There was a shrill scream, and Percy's voice, shouting, "Immobulus!" As they gathered to the doorway, Percy dropped flat to his back, the troll's huge club swishing menacingly overhead, tearing out a massive portion of the wall and several sinks in the process. Ceramics, fixtures, and water sprayed out everywhere, and Hermione, huddled on the far wall, gave a second high shriek.

From his back, Percy slashed horizontally with his wand, crying out, "Expelliarmus!"

A bolt of red light shot from the wand, just as the club began its return path. The bolt struck the troll's hand, and its fingers reflexively opened, the club slamming hard into the wall, leaving cracks where it had impacted before thudding heavily to the floor. The troll looked at its hand bewildered a moment, trying to understand what had just happened, before Percy scrambled to his feet, thrusting his wand forward with a cry of, "Confundus!"

The bolt struck the troll full on in the face; Harry had no clue what went wrong, except that the troll seemed completely unaffected. The troll, however, finally realized that it was the puny thing in front of it responsible for having somehow misplaced its weapon, and a massive, gnarled fist lashed out. Percy didn't manage to duck it this time, and did a full flip before landing in a staggered, bruised heap. Percy's wand flew off somewhere.

"Hermione! You have to run!" Harry shouted, then froze where he was halfway across the far wall of the bathroom, as the troll turned to face the sound of his yell.

"Oh, bugger..." he whispered, as the monster started over to him. Harry skittered to the side as the huge fist started to whoosh in at him; from the doorway, Neville brandished a wand desperately. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he yelled out, his wand swishing and flicking, and suddenly the troll's club flew up into the air wildly. The club barely missed the troll, slamming into the wall several feet to Harry's left, and the troll looked at it in puzzlement. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he called out again, as the troll lumbered over to the weapon that it had been missing, and the club shot straight up once more, this time directly into the troll's chin with a mammoth impact and spun off back to the other side of the bathroom. The troll wavered a moment, pawing the air in front of it in a disoriented fashion, before it collapsed forward onto its face. It was breathing, but didn't so much as twitch, even when Harry cautiously nudged at it with his toe.

Harry's heart hammered in his chest as he got up and ran to Hermione. "Are you okay?" he said, pulling her up from where she had been curled. A sudden slamming and footsteps heralded the arrival of Professors McGonagall, Snape, and on their heels, Quirrell. The latter took one look at the troll, whimpered, and collapsed to his haunches against the wall, clutching his heart. Professor Snape checked over the troll, making certain it was incapacitated, while McGonagall looked over Percy.

McGonagall whirled to face them all, taking in the scene, before turning on Percy like the wrath of hell. "Prefect- No, not prefect any longer! Percival Ignatius Weasley, how dare you drag a lot of first years into a confrontation with a troll! What on earth were you thinking! I'll have you expelled for this, this, reckless endangerment!"

"No!" Harry protested, catching McGonagall's attention from the still dazed Percy, who was looking around for where his wand had landed. "It's my fault- I-" Harry suddenly realized he had no idea what to say to this. He knew he had to explain, but had no thought of how to go about it.

"Severus," Professor McGonagall said, turning her head, "what's the condition of that beast. Can it be contained?"

Professor Snape stood up, turned to face McGonagall, and nodded. "I have already taken measures to do so, as unnecessary as I think they might be. This troll is suffering a surprisingly nasty concussion and a broken jaw."

McGonagall sniffed imperiously, and glared down at Percy. "Even if you were lucky enough to handle a troll on your own, Mister Weasley, don't think that this-"

"I didn't do it," Percy mumbled dazedly, looking around. "My wand- where's my-"

"What? What do you mean, 'You didn't do it?'" demanded McGonagall.

"It knocked me about, my confundus, it did nothing," Percy said, pulling himself to a sitting position.

"Of course it did nothing, you idiot!" Snape growled, grabbing the hem of his robe and stomping forward. "A troll hasn't the wit or brain to be confounded any more than it is in its natural state!"

"But if you didn't subdue it, who did?" McGonagall asked, shocked.

The first years still gathered at the door all pointed at Neville, who stood there trying to shrink in on himself, looking very uncomfortable.

* * *

Percy, surprisingly, was neither expelled nor lost his prefect status. The collection of first years plus Percy stood in front of a very stern Dumbledore and all heads of houses as Harry admitted to having dragged the others along to coerce Percy into helping find Hermione. In the end, there was a hold off on points deducted from Gryffindor for Percy, as Dumbledore acknowledged that Harry had rather coldly mousetrapped him into helping, and Gryffindor actually gained five points for Neville's stunningly brave and successful performance in subduing the troll after it knocked down Percy. Slytherin, on the other hand, lost ten points, and Harry received six weeks of detention- all the way until Christmas holiday- along with removal of permissions for Terry, Hermione, and Neville to sit at the Slytherin table. Finally, Harry's study group was permanently disbanded, citing poor influences on members of other houses.

Slytherin house was outraged by the decision, lodging a protest, and the other houses followed suit, with even Percy protesting that without Harry's actions, Hermione might have been killed. After all, he stated specifically, the troll had been going into the girls' bathroom right as they'd all arrived, a prefect was a leader in the house for their exceptional marks in all things magical, and on top of everything, Percy would NOT have taken the beast on its own. By the time the instructors had arrived, Hermione would almost certainly have been killed without interference, and if only Percy had gone, Percy would have likely been dead followed possibly by Hermione. The head of Hufflepuff house, Pomona Sprout, even threatened to lodge formal protest with the Ministry if the stated punishment went through.

"I cannot afford students to think that it is ever acceptable to manipulate prefects into going against the orders of the staff here at Hogwarts," Dumbledore stated flatly. "Most especially not members of House Slytherin."

All of the instructors were stunned; Professor Snape stood flabbergasted by the pronouncement. "How dare you, Albus," he demanded, eyes narrowing in fury. "How dare you, sir."

Dumbledore remained calm, looking Snape in the eyes evenly. "Severus, the last time an organization that crossed house lines was set up by a student, they became a scourge across the length and breadth of Magical Britain. He set up that organization in the exact same fashion, breaking rules when they saw fit, always with an excuse, dancing closer and closer to the line until he and his followers crossed it completely. Do you remember the name of this organization, Severus?"

Snape's nostrils of his hooked nose flared several times, clearly furious. But he said nothing.

Dumbledore sat back and said, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions. I however have the benefit of hindsight and a century and a half of experience. And I will not be the only one who can make the connection between the pattern now and the pattern back then. Even if the parallels are completely innocent, there are those outside this school who will not see it the same way. No, Severus, this is for the best, and when you've calmed sufficiently you will see that I am right. Can you imagine, Severus, what would happen if the ministry could secure a vote of no confidence in me, and replace me with one of their sock puppets? Can you?"

Severus's jaw clenched, and he commented, "If such an organization were from another house, though, perhaps Gryffindor, I imagine it would have your full support, headmaster."

Dumbledore looked Snape in the eye and replied, "I'd like to think I would be fair about my decision in this regard no matter what house they were from, Severus."

Snape's lips thinned, before he turned to face the window. "Mister Potter will receive his detentions in the Potions classroom, every weekday, until dinner time, as per the punishment. I request that he be permitted weekends exempted."

"Permission denied," Dumbledore stated flatly. "There can be no show of leniency in this regard, Severus, or the entire point of this action will be rendered moot. Harry Potter is too high profile for me to be able to budge on this, or give even the appearance of favoritism."

The first years exploded in protest over this, except for Harry, who stood staring Dumbledore down with angry, helpless tears in his eyes.

"Try to understand, Mister Potter," Dumbledore said after the noise had mostly died down, "that this is for the Greater Good- and I cannot do more except express my unofficial sympathy for the circumstances that make this necessary."

Harry broke eye contact and looked out the window- he'd been a fool to expect that things would be any more fair to him here than they had been at the Dursleys. A single frustrated tear leaked from his eye, and Harry wiped it away angrily.

"You expect us to change the reputation of Slytherin house, but you won't look past that reputation yourself," Harry said, still not looking at the headmaster.

"No-one said it would be easy, Mister Potter," Dumbledore replied gently. "But I cannot afford to let even the appearance of another Voldemort come to rise. I would be replaced and my replacement would act far more harshly, however bad this may seem now."

Snape looked partially over his shoulder. "I trust, headmaster, that this meeting is finished? It would be best if I could get my students to sleep, so that they may properly pay attention in classes tomorrow."

Dumbledore nodded, and said, "You are all dismissed."

* * *

The day after Halloween was a Friday. Malfoy had been insufferable in the common room, relentless in his commentary about the "price of nobility and that rot; everyone knows that no good deed goes unpunished." Shockingly enough, Blaise Zabini was allied with Malfoy in this regard, for Harry having lost ten points for Slytherin.

"A waste, a complete waste of effort by your house mates, backtracked, because you had to take action- to do what? To try and save the life of a filthy mudblood! I'd call you a blood traitor but you're less than that, a half blood, and a shame to all Slytherin!" Blaise was beyond incensed; a vein had popped out of his forehead, and he looked as though he was on the verge of physically attacking Harry. After a minute where he visibly regained control of himself, he looked Harry calmly in the eyes and spit on the hem of Harry's robe. "You're not fit to be part of any house."

Blaise spun on his heel and left. Harry was confused and miserable- and he had no idea what a mudblood even WAS. He'd been so sure that this was the right course of action, to get someone who was old enough to fight the troll, but instead he was being punished, and completely out of proportion to what he'd done. His actions had saved the life of a fellow student and he was being given just short of expulsion for it.

Theo and Milli had little success in trying to pull him out of his low mood.

Harry came to a halt as he entered the Great Hall- the room was absolutely silent, and nobody was eating among the student body. As Harry slowly walked in, confused, the students all looked to the door, watching him.

Harry felt even more ashamed- he couldn't look anyone in the eye, even as he noted the teachers at the teachers table speaking urgently amongst one another. He said nothing, simply sitting down at the table, while Milli and Theo sat on either side of him. Trying to attract as little attention as possible, Harry began eating.  
"Got room for two more in that group of yours?" said a voice from behind Harry that got all three of them to start a bit. Looking over his shoulder, Harry saw two completely unexpected faces: Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry felt a sliver of anticipation and a sense of deja vu, while Milli and Theo looked distrustful. "Why would you want to hang with us? You have Draco to tag along with, don't you?" Theo asked.

Harry held up his hand. "I was kind of expecting this, actually. Ever since the brooms, although this is faster than I'd guessed."

Crabbe tilted his head to the side. "We used to think Draco was going places. He certainly seemed pretty smart, at any rate. We know our limitations."

Goyle nodded, stern jawed. He looked up to the other end of them table, where Malfoy was fixing the five of them with an unrestrained glare of pure hatred. "He never calls us by our names, just our surnames. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows our given names. It was alright before, when he was moving up."

"Not anymore, though," Crabbe continued on. "First real competition he comes up against and he chokes. He gets stumped every time he comes up against you, Potter, and it's pretty simple to see why. He's got the name but you have the goods. We're not the best in our classes, but we're smart enough to know when to let him fail on his own merits, nor to ride his broom down in flames."

"Then there's the other part, too," Goyle commented, favoring Draco with a return glare of surprising heat. "One of your training wheels was in trouble and what do you do? You go and find a way to save her. Me and Vincent thought it over for a bit yesterday and you know what? Draco would have let us flap in the wind."

"Not that we'd have been crying our eyes out in the girl's loo, or anything, but still," interjected Crabbe.

"It's time that Draco held himself up," Goyle finished.

Harry nodded, as Milli and Theo looked to him for guidance. "Welcome to the winning team," Harry said.

Dinner passed with Harry still feeling the oppressive looks from not only the rest of Slytherin, but also the other three houses. As the dishes vanished and the Headmaster gave a few end of dinner announcements that Harry didn't pay attention to, all he really wanted was to get up and leave.

Finally, the droning stopped, and Harry immediately stood up, walking quickly to the door.

He'd almost made it out of the Hall, when someone shouted, "Potter!"

Harry stopped, and turned back, to find the entire school looking at him yet again. He felt nauseous, shakey, and just wanted to go hide somewhere. Nobody had left their seats, not even Dumbledore.

Someone from the Hufflepuff table stood up and began clapping- it was Cedric. Sasha and Alex stood up almost immediately after, joining in. Then Percy, Neville and Hermione, and a pair from Ravenclaw, three more Puffs, five more, the entire Hufflepuff table followed closely by the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws, all of them applauding Harry. He stood there, looking confused, then realized that even most of the teachers had stood and applauded as well, save for Quirrell, Snape, and Dumbledore. The Slytherins didn't join in the applause, save for Milli, Theo, and belatedly, Crabbe and Goyle. But Harry felt a little sliver of vindication, that even if he'd been punished for it, he'd still done the right thing.

* * *

Professor Snape slammed open the door to the Potions class, not pausing in his rapid march to the front of the classroom. The students all had quills and parchment out and ready.

"In light of last night's events, I have come to the conclusion that Mister Potter is not solely responsible for the actions for which he is being punished," Professor Snape said with no preamble. "I have conferred with Professor McGonagall and she is in agreement- That Miss Granger's choice to skip class as well as Mister Longbottom's choice to assist Mister Potter in his manipulation of a prefect mandates that they be subjected to the same punishment that he is- along with every other student who supported Mister Potter in his actions last night. You were all in your respective places by your own choices and as such will be held accountable. Tonight, after classes and every day for the next six weeks you will all report to this class for detention until dinner time." Malfoy's snickers were loud.

Harry blinked, looking up at Snape with hope in his eyes, but the Professor cut him off.

"Regardless of what you are about to say, Mister Potter, I'd suggest holding your tongue lest something come off of it that we will all regret."

Potions was otherwise uneventful, saving that Harry and Hermione were paired together again, receiving an "Acceptable" from Snape, and Draco received a bitter chewing out over his performance of rendering the tallow from the camel's hide they'd been allotted for potions.

After classes, Harry saw Neville, Hermione, Crabbe, Goyle, Theo, and Milli all seated together at the foremost table, while Professor Snape stood staring at them all. "I believe that the customary manual labor to begin detention is unnecessary today, given that the nature of the infraction last night was a social folly. Instead, the seven of you will be here receiving extra lessons in all your classes. After each cram lesson you will be given a ten minute recess to confer among yourselves regarding what you were taught, after which point you will then prepare for the next subject. Given that you are all rising rapidly to the tops of your classes in your cross house study group, I see no reason or good sense in permitting that effort which has gone into your self motivation go to waste. You have all demonstrated a willingness and eagerness to learn. I will exercise it until it reaches its full potential or until it has fled you completely. Quills out. In fifteen fifty three, sir Walter Engel Priam began an exhaustive set of experiments with the herb known as mandrake..."

* * *

End Chapter Five

* * *

AN: Blah blah you all know the drill.

So wait, Harry gets punished severely for something he gets rewarded for in canon?

The answer is: Nope.

In Canon, Harry and Ron get points awarded for saving Hermione. Here, on the other hand, Harry wilfully manipulates a prefect into disobeying direct orders. The argument here is not that Hermione's life wasn't worth it, but that Harry's actions were manipulative and got other people involved, putting a large group of fellow students at risk. Why would Dumbles react this way?

Here we delve into the realm of psychology. First, Dumbledore remembers quite vividly Tom Riddle. This is more or less the fashion in which Tom Riddle might have handled this situation, had he felt inclined to save someone's life in the first place. If Dumbledore had seen fit to really examine things, the action to save someone's life might have mellowed the reaction. But there is also the second reason, which is this: The traits we see in others that we hate the most are those traits we hate in ourselves. Dumbledore is every bit as duplicitous and sneaky and manipulative, although he tries to justify it to himself. Despite this, he displays some rather egregious cases of house bias in the novels, the most notable of which wresting the house Cup from Slytherin at the end of Sorceror's Stone with a bunch of randomly distributed points.

Bleh. On to other things besides Hypocri-dore.

There are days when your keyboard just seems to stare at you. And I'm still amazed and mystified that nobody spotted the rather unkind poke at Cedric I left in chapter one when he, Sasha, and Alec are talking on the Hogwarts Express. But since I've pointed out that there IS a cheap shot in there, maybe someone will finally notice it. My son made a bet with me that nobody would catch it, but I'd thought somebody would pick up on it. I now owe my son a bag of pretzels for beer night. Yes, he is old enough to drink. Yes, I am that old. As I may have mentioned in the past, I am retired.

It's been a while since I posted to this story, and for that I apologize. I had not only this chapter but several more written and waiting, but I was severely hesitant about posting this chapter, until about three days ago I reread it for the forty-leventh time and realized what was bothering me about it, and thus, here is the updated version of the chapter with a good deal less "FAIL" in it. Here it is. Following chapters in dire need of revision in light of the changes made.

I've been reviewed on being very derivative in my early chapters, and I admit that yes, some parts were cribbed straight from the books. I refer you to rule 2 of the fanfiction rules of the internet. Then, when I actually answer you seriously, I was trying to maitain the flow of the story with as much faithfulness to the style and setting as I could, so that if one were to replace the latter section of the book with what I was writing one couldn't see a shift in style or flow from the original story- which was itself a crappy decision but seems to work for me in getting things to flow. But I will make an effort to curb this habit in the future.

That's all.

Ja mata.

-AXENOME


	6. 6: The Mirror of Erised

In the last six weeks, it became apparent that Crabbe and Goyle were perhaps a little smarter than they let on, or even realized. He'd taken careful note to remember to call them by their given names rather than their surnames. Harry wasn't certain why, since he didn't care much whether someone called him Potter or just Harry, but they seemed to appreciate it. Internally, though, he remembered them as Crabbe and Goyle.

Cedric had been surprised to see Crabbe and Goyle in the group, until Harry explained that Malfoy's taking the two of them for granted had them seeking someone who would treat them with more parity- a comparison that set Cedric more at ease with both them and Harry, while simultaneously eliciting genuine gratitude from Draco's two former cronies. Harry neglected to mention that his rival being almost critically weakened by this was the real deal sweetener, but Harry was certain Cedric neither wanted nor needed to hear that.

Harry noticed that his grades in all classes were high, as were all members of the detention group, formerly study group. Harry was... if not actually fully happy, at the very least, content, with the detentions. Crabbe and Goyle had been most unsatisfied with them, at least at first, but as time progressed they both admitted grudgingly that they were getting decidedly useful advantages with the extra tutoring that Professor Snape provided to all of them. Snape was hard, unforgiving, and brusque to the point of rudeness, but he knew every detail of his teachings as well as he knew Potions. Harry had also noticed that Professor Snape had spent almost a month walking with a limp, but any inquiries were rebuffed well past rudeness and very nearly verbal abuse. His most vicious recriminations of Harry's performance frequently occured after Harry inquired as to Snape's health; Yet Harry also noticed that Snape's expression softened slightly if he thought Harry wasn't looking. All of the study group gradually came to notice that Snape had a tendency to be hardest on Harry, and to a lesser extent, Neville and Hermione.

Theodore brought this up one day as they were leaving the Great Hall; Harry had a tentative answer.

"I think," Harry said slowly, "I think that Snape is hardest on the three of us because he has the highest expectations of us. Hermione is so bloody brilliant that nobody knows why she didn't wind up in Ravenclaw, and Neville's very strong in magic. He almost solitarily defeated that troll."

"And you're tied with Hermione for smarts, mate, not to mention being The-Boy-That-Lived," Theo added in, nodding. "Beating me by a broom handle and a half, for certain."

Harry shrugged. "Not really. Hermione has me beat in pretty much every way that matters. I'm only ahead of her in Defense- where we're not even casting any spells yet- Herbology, and Astronomy, and that last is only because she doesn't have as decent a telescope as I do. We're tied in Potions because Professor Snape keeps pairing us up to brew. Anything that deals with the REAL nuts and bolts of wand magic, she has me almost completely lapped."

"Harry, mate, you're an extremely close second place in the classes where you're not active first." Theo tilted his head sideways. "And Hermione works like a dog- sort of like you do, in fact- to get to what she does. All she has to do is slip just a little in ANY of those classes, and you'll over take her."

They were crossing the courtyard at this point, and Harry just looked longingly at the sort-of park where they'd begun the study group only a couple months ago- Had it really been so short a time?

"You know, Harry," Millicent said from behind him, from where she'd been... Not eavesdropping, as she would say, since she had every right to be there, but listening in. "You know that if you really wanted to you could probably catch up to her and beat her in any subject you wanted to. I think the real issue is you don't know what you want to excel at."

Harry slowed a bit at this. Theo, Milli, Crabbe, and Goyle all also slowed, until they'd more or less stopped near the door that led intot he depths of the castle. Harry looked at Crabbe. "Vincent, what do you want to excel at?"

"Easy enough- I'd like to focus on Transfigurations, like my Mum," Crabbe said simply. "I've always wanted to do that sort of thing, changing things from one to another."

"I'd go with History of Magic and Divination," Goyle chimed in, "so as I could take a position in the Ministry. If I had the gift for seeing the future, I mean." The other four looked at Goyle oddly. "Oh, what? It's not like he wasn't going to ask me the same thing."

Harry smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose I would have."

"So what is it that you want, then?" Asked Theo. The other three were looking at Harry intently.

"I don't suppose I know," Harry replied after a long moment.

* * *

**Slytherin**

**Book One: Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone**

**Chapter Six: "The Mirror of Erised" or "What do I Want (for Christmas)?"**

* * *

That night it snowed- early December, and in the course of a single night several feet of it had fallen. Owls were having a miserable time trying to deliver mail, and needed nursing back to health afterwards, and Harry caught wind through Hermione that a pair of Gryffindors had gotten detentions for hexing snowballs to follow Professor Quirrell about and pelt him in the back of his turban when he wasn't looking. The matter seemed more to offend Quirrell that they hit his turban rather than that they were hexed to target Quirrell in the first place. Within a matter of days, Harry came to resent the seasons, for although the Great Hall and the Slytherin House were all well warmed with roaring fires, the halls were chilly and drafty, and the classroom windows rattled and seeped the winter wind. Potions had been Harry's favorite class until now; for the damp exascerbated the chill and all the students huddled close to their heated cauldrons.

"I feel SO BAD for those who stay here through the coldest weeks for the hols, on account of they're not wanted at home," Draco commented nastily in potions class, two weeks before winter break.

"Which ones, the ones that are such rubbish they can't even be adopted, or the ones whose parents are limited to muggle foolishness to get home?" Replied Blaise from across the room. Harry was developing an aversion to Zabini's company; ever since Crabbe and Goyle had left Draco's side, the latter had begun gathering new allies in Slytherin, including a couple of the older students. Harry was beginning to feel an unomfortable divide developing in the house- the only unaligned first year students now were Pansy Parkinson, Tracy Davis, and Daphne Greengrass. Harry had yet to make overtures to them, seeing as most of the time the three attempted to remain unnoticed by either side. Harry felt this alone marked them as smarter- or at least, more pleasant- members of the house at the moment.

"Oh, take your pick- Considering the orphan is stuck living amongst muggles anyhow while he's not here," Draco answered mockingly. "I wonder if he'll try and stay here for summer hols, too? Maybe he can get lucky and have someone build him a shack next door to Hagrid."

Harry frowned, looking at the quill in his hand. For a moment he fantasized about transfiguring Draco's quill into a long razor while he wrote with it, but then dismissed the idea. For one, he'd almost certainly get caught, being that he and Hermione were the only ones in class with the ability to manage the task in Transfiguration so far. Aside from that, he had no intention to set up Draco as a sympathetic figure. "Well, Malfoy, I suppose hanging about in a magical castle, continuing my education, learning more and more about being a powerful wizard, instead of loafing about for several weeks and forgetting what I've learned so far, sounds absolutely dreadful. Almost as bad as surrounding myself with people what have talent and drive to learn. Can't imagine WHAT I'll make of myself once I've completed my studies instead of wasting my time trying to talk down to people smarter than me."

The door slammed inward, and Snape stalked forward, inadvertantly giving Harry the last word in the exchange. Hermione was almost on Snape's heels, head down and her hands clutching her tote so hard they were white. She sat down at her place next to Harry without a word, nor looking up.

Snape began taking rollcall. As Hermione's name came up, she mumbled assent, and Snape paused. "Miss Granger, are you quite alright?" he demanded rather unkindly. Hermione nodded, but still didn't look up.

Harry was concerned; Hermione was never so subdued. Apparently this unusual behavior was not lost on Snape; he snapped out, "Miss Granger, look at me!"

Clearly humiliated, Hermione looked up, her face coming out of the shelter of her hair, and Harry gasped, as did several others in class. A couple of girls from Gryffindor house snickered a little, but Snape growled out, "Silence in the classroom! Miss Granger, what happened to you?"

Hermione began to cover the awful yellow boils that were up and down the left side of her face, but Snape said, "Do not look away! What happened, how long has this afflicted you? Never mind that, Potter, escort Miss Granger to the hospital wing," Snape said, as he finished waving his wand over Hermione's cheek. Hermione was silently weeping now, and Snape straightened up. "Mister Potter, once you have done so, please stop by Professor McGonagall's class on the way back." Snape was scribbling on a short piece of parchment hurriedly. With a wave of his wand the note suddenly duplicated. "Give one of these to Madam Pomfrey, and the other to McGonagall. Go, the both of you, NOW."

Harry nodded, taking the parchments, and helped Hermione to her feet, who was still crying soundlessly. Draco snickered. "Sleep on a beehive, Granger?" he quipped. His chuckles suddenly cut short and Malfoy paled a little.

Harry snuck a glance over his shoulder while they walked to the door, to see Snape glaring at Draco colder than the snow outside. "Mister Malfoy, given that I demanded silence in the classroom, I find myself appalled at the necessity of this action- two points from Slytherin. And I will see you after class in detention today."

Then, the door shut behind them, and Hermione and Harry were walking to the hospital wing. Harry took a look at the parchment.

_Miss Granger has been dosed with bubotuber pus, likely laced with clove and asphodel to numb the sensation and prevent disruption of her sleep. I suspect this concoction will be found on her pillow, thus the reason she was almost late to my class this morning. I will require words with you directly after my fifth year potion's class is concluded this afternoon (2:30). _

_S.S._

Harry frowned. Asphodel... asphodel... Why did that sound familiar?

First day of potions class. "Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so potent it is known as the Draught of the Living Death."

So someone dosed Hermione's pillow with a sleeping potion? And why the boils?

Hermione let out a sob. "My face will be scarred, now," she murmured. "I'll never be pretty."

"You'll be alright," Harry said, still leading her. "Madam uh, Pomfrey will fix you up. Does it hurt?"

Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything more.

Finally, they'd gotten to the hospital tower, first floor, and into the Nurse's Office. The woman in the office was slim and grim faced, with mousey brown hair.

She took a look at Hermione, and escorted her to the back. As the woman returned, she looked at Harry impatiently. "Well? Are you also injured? If not, I suggest you get back to class."

"Are you Madam Pomfrey?" He asked. "Professor Snape also told me to give this to her."

The woman took the paper, read it over, and nodded. "I'll give this to her at once."

Harry left, heading to the transfiguration classroom, also on the first floor. As he opened the door, McGonagall cut off from her lecture and looked up; Harry felt a bit self conscious as he walked to her desk. Wordlessly, he handed her the other parchment.

Harry would have sworn her features didn't shift. None-the-less, her demeanor shifted smoothly from neutral to infuriated over the course of the two seconds it took her to get from top of the message to the bottom. Her nostrils flared slightly, but she looked at Harry and gave him a short nod. "Thank you, Mister Potter. You may return to your class, now."

Harry gulped slightly and nodded back, before turning and walking back to the door. He caught a glimpse of Cedric Diggory, although not Sasha or Alex. He flashed a quick smile at the older student, who returned a grin, and then was out the door.

Harry hurried back to class- as cold as the dungeons were, at least they weren't drafty like the halls were right now. Harry's fingers were numb by the time he returned to class, and as Harry sat down gratefully next to his heating cauldron, Milli looked up expectantly at Professor Snape. Snape gave Harry an assessing look, then said, "As you were out of the classroom on an errand, Mister Potter, I have consented to a request by Miss Bulstrode. Do not become accustomed to it." Snape repeated the charm he'd used on the parchment earlier, and a copy of Millicent's notes for the day appeared, which she handed to Harry with satisfaction and a small degree of glee. Harry smiled his thanks to both Milli and Professor Snape, the latter of whom stood for a moment longer looking at Harry evenly, before heading back to the head of the classroom.

After class had finished, Harry remained behind for his Friday detention. In a lot of ways, it didn't feel like much of a punishment at all. Here, at Hogwarts, he was allowed to excel without being held under the shadow of Dudley in school. Nobody tried to bully him here. He slept in a comfortable bed, ate as much as he wanted during meal times, was learning all manner of incredible things, and even in detentions, he was getting the opportunity to learn even more things. He briefly wondered if he'd died and gone to heaven. But only briefly.

Draco remained at his seat sullenly, giving Blaise a nod as the latter left the room. Zabini paused a bit, eyeing Harry, then returned the nod to Malfoy.

Harry grimaced irritably. Hermione was likely still in the medical wing, meaning that Milli would have him to her own devices for the detention. When both of them were there, Millicent was less... clingy. But when Hermione wasn't around, Milli always sought to be physically the closest person to him. Harry wasn't entirely certain of what to make of this. She'd often put her hand on his shoulder or touch his arm while they were talking, which made him very uncomfortable.

He shuddered to think of what Draco would have to say about it during detention; and he felt a stirring of nervousness that this was the first time Crabbe and Goyle would be in the same room with Malfoy for an extended period of time since they'd abandoned their roles as training wheels. Harry vaguely wondered if perhaps he'd been too trusting of them.

Sure, he had Theo and Milli and Neville with him as well, but...

Was he just overthinking all of this?

Professor Snape had walked out of the room for a few minutes; Harry wondered where he'd gone. This wasn't shaping up to be anything like detention usually was. Neville seemed to notice the disparity, as well.

Neville made Harry think a little. Sure, he'd said that he had a feeling that Neville would grow up from a puppy into a rottweiler, and he'd meant it, but still, the suddenness of his transition was stunning. Seeing Neville pummel the troll into submission with its own club after it had knocked a prefect senseless had struck all of them with a slight sense of awe, and Neville had taken it all with a sort of understated humility that made Harry feel a little guilty. Wasn't he supposed to be the great Boy-Who-Lived? Shouldn't he have been the one to knock out the troll?

Harry rejected that thought immediately. No. He hadn't come to the bathroom to fight a troll. He'd come to get Hermione to safety. He'd have been perfectly happy with sneaking past the smelly brute, grabbing Hermione, and getting out of there, and had Percy not been knocked about Harry would have done exactly that. And yes, his yell had gotten the troll's attention- but honestly, he'd rather it paid attention to him rather than turn back to Hermione.

Harry frowned. That sounded almost... Gryffindorish. But Hermione was a Gryffindor. And so was Neville. ARGH! This was all so frustrating. Harry really wished that Professor Snape would come back.

Almost as though summoned by Harry's thoughts, the door opened, and Professor Snape was there with Professor McGonnagal.

"Potter, Professor McGonnagal requests to speak with you." Snape's voice was cool, almost indifferent.

Harry stood up, and walked out the door to see McGonnagal.

The witch was a regal woman, her features stern and strong and still bearing the grace of the amazing beauty she must have been as a young woman. As the door to the potions class shut behind him, McGonnagal began speaking. "Mister Potter, as you are no doubt aware, Hermione Granger is in the medical wing. Someone in Gryffindor house saw fit to mix a solution of asphodel and bubotuber pus and smear it on her pillow, no doubt as a cruel sort of prank. Unfortunately, the student who did this was unaware of the effects that such a concoction could have."

"So it wasn't on purpose?" Harry asked. "I don't think that's good enough an excuse to get away-"

"No, it was on purpose- and the executor of this particular action will be punished accordingly. But I doubt that the intent of this prank was to go as far as it did. Bubotuber pus when at high concentrations can cause boils in a matter of a minute or less. This is where the asphodel came into play, as an agent to ensure that the stinging of the bubotuber wouldn't wake her. The addition of clove helped reduce the sensation as the mixture penetrated her skin. It was somewhat diluted by the other agents it was mixed with... but the asphodel was strong enough for her to sleep almost ten hours on it. Madam Pomfrey isn't certain that the damage will be permanently scarring, but it is very possible. She will do her best to see to it that it doesn't. But that leaves us with another problem."

Professor McGonnagal took a deep breath. "Mister Potter, the Headmaster is concerned by this incident. This is the second time that Hermione's close association with you has caused her injury- indirectly, true, but injury still." Harry's eyes widened at this. "At first, I was heartened by the occurence of a student who was willing to ignore the traditional boundaries of house and make friends with those outside their own. But Dumbledore has misgivings about it, especially with the effects that it has had on Miss Granger in particular. And she is a member of my house, a promising one, but an incident like this is more than enough justification for a parent to decide to remove a student from school. True, magical parents understand that magical education is dangerous- thus the reason for Hogwarts in the first place- but muggleborns' parents often balk at this level of danger." Professor McGonnagal sighed again deeply, before continuing, "Harry, I w- I want you to stop associating with Hermione Granger. And Neville Longbottom. As head of house I can do only so much- I can punish the offenses but I can't stop the resentment. I know it doesn't seem fair, but you must let them remain a part of their own house. And they can't do that as long as they associate with you. You MUST do this for their sakes. Do you understand?"

Harry felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, and for a moment he couldn't tell where he was. Hermione, injured, because of him?

"It's best if you just stop speaking with her. With both of them, really. You- you DO care about them? Enough to let them go to be safe?"

Harry leaned against the doorjamb unsteadily. McGonnagal had a strange look on her face, and said, "Mister Potter, do remember what I said, won't you? And don't mention this to them- it would only encourage them to seek you out regardless of the risks to themselves. Gryffindors are known for being stubborn." She turned on her heel and walked away down the corridor.

Harry felt an ache in his chest at this, coupled by a growing headache. It was- it was all too much...

As his headache flared, Harry's vision narrowed and the world went away for a while.

* * *

"Mister Potter!"

Harry groaned- his head was pounding and the voice was hammerblows on his eardrums.

"What happened, Mister Potter?"

Harry opened his eyes and regretted it- Snape was peering at him from a distance of a little under a foot and his normally unpleasant visage was all the more so from such close range. The crease across his forehead was at war with the one between his eyebrows, competing over anger and concern, and a strand of greasy hair was on Harry's cheek.

"I- I don't know..." Harry croaked. "M' head hurts."

Snape's jaw tensed, as he mumbled something between his teeth. After Harry made an abortive attempt to stand, defeated by a massive wave of dizziness, Snape knealt down lower and lifted Harry up. He seemed surprised at how little effort it took.

Harry stiffened at the unfamiliar contact, uncomfortable with being touched- he began feeling motion sick. He struggled but Snape held him firmer. His vision swam as patches of grey started to occlude his sight, the world spun, and his ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton. From a distance, it seemed, he heard Snape's voice speaking to Madam Pomfrey, like he was in the bottom of a barrel. Then he jarred a bit as he was laid flat somewhere, and he started breathing again.

When he next came to himself, it was late afternoon and Madam Pomfrey was speaking in low hushed tones to Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape. The curtain between his bed and the rest of the room did nothing to effectively block sound.

"I can't find much of anything wrong with him, aside from a moderate case of shock and some malnutrition," Madam Pomfrey said softly. "His scar seems agitated, like it's been irritated, but I can't figured how or why."

"There is something very wrong here, Albus!" Snape hissed in a low tone. "He was outside my door with Minerva for barely five minutes, and-"

"Poppy, Severus, I can understand your concern, but I hardly think that Minerva of all people-" Began Dumbledore, but Professor Snape cut him off.

"Vaporous reassurances with nebulous subjects are not good enough!" Snape's voice raised slightly; it was the most emotion Harry'd ever heard from his head of house. "I went to pick him up- I'd tried levitating him beforehand and something interfered with it- only to find he weighed next to nothing! I'd merely thought the way he picked at his meals was because of being someplace new, that he was short because he was a late bloomer, but this- You told me he was cared for by family. Yet even for his short height he's underweight. I want ANSWERS, Albus!"

Dumbledore's reply sounded almost thoughtful. "You seem to have developed a bit of a soft spot for the son of your former rival, Severus."

Professor Snape bit out, "That boy is NOTHING like that miserable father of his! He's bright, fair-minded, studious, and respectful. Were it not for his hair you'd hardly think he was James' child at all. He's virtually his mother reincarnate."

There was nothing more said for a few moments, and with a sudden gasp Harry realized he'd forgotten to breathe. Professor Snape had known his parents?

The curtain parted a moment after he'd made the sound, and Madam Pomfrey stood there, peering in. Behind her, Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore were looking on, Snape with his normal, blank and stern expression while Dumbledore looked at him with a gaze that made Harry vaguely uncomfortable.

"Well, now, Mister Potter." Madam Pomfrey's voice was fairly brusque; overall, Harry found her to be easily as intimidating as Dumbledore or Professor Snape. "You've chosen an interesting way to introduce yourself to the hospital wing this year. How are you feeling?"

Harry bit his lip. "I'm fine, ma'am."

Madam Pomfrey frowned somewhat at this. "People who are fine do not suddenly pass out in the halls, nor do they show evidence of not eating well. Is there anything wrong with the food?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "No, of course not! The food is wonderful, I've never eaten so well anywhere."

Madam Pomfrey eyed him flatly for a few more moments, making Harry shift uncomfortably. The meaningful look exchanged between Professor Snape and the Headmaster didn't escape his notice, although he wasn't certain of what it precisely meant, either. Finally, she turned to face the others. "I need to run a few more spells on him before I release him to his classes, but my suspicion is stress and fatigue. Perhaps a visit with his family is in order, as it isn't uncommon for first years to fall ill from homesickness."

"No!" Harry said abruptly, causing the three adults to immediately turn their heads to face him again. "Uh, I mean, no, that won't be necessary. I don't think they'd want to see me," he added self consciously.

That look passed between Dumbledore and Professor Snape again, joined this time by a matching one from Madam Pomfrey. Madam Pomfrey said, "Well, then, I suggest you should lay down again and try to get some rest, Mister Potter. Some of the spells I will be running in a bit will be tiring for both of us, but I think quite necessary."

Harry felt a sense of foreboding at this statement, but did as he was told, laying back down slowly. His head hirt, especially his forehead. The three adults left the bedside and went into Madam Pomfrey's office.

Moments later, Professor McGonnagal opened the door to the infirmary, apparently in a rush. "Poppy, is Proffessor- Mister Potter? What happened, why are you in here?"

Harry shrugged from where he lay. "Not really sure yet, Professor." He shrugged again. "Madam Pomfrey is going to cast some spells later on to find out more."

"I hope, then that you will be alright. Mister Longbottom will be beside himself that his two best friends are both in the infirmary. I'd suggest that you get well quickly so as to not over worry the boy." McGonnagal's lips twitched a little as though she were about to smile, then continued on. "Have you seen professor Snape? He wished to speak to me about the incident with Miss Granger."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. This didn't at all seem to take into account that she'd told him earlier to stay away from them, and hadn't she already spoken to Professor Snape earlier? "Uh, he's in the office with Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster," Harry said.

McGonnagal nodded brusquely and didn't wati for further conversation, instead entering the office immediately.

Harry had barely closed his eyes when a commotion caused him to snap them open again. Professors McGonnagal and Snape were both tearing from the room, wands drawn, with Headmaster Dumbledore hot on their heels. Madam Pomfrey looked shaken, tapping the four corners of the door with her wand as the door shut behind them. The door's boundaries glowed blue briefly, and Harry watched with rapt interest as she began scrawling something on the door. As she finished tracing the last lines the door glowed again, red this time, and she came over to the bed Harry was laying in. "Mister Potter, we may need to move very quickly in short order. Do you feel well enough to get up and run if the need arises for it?"

Harry felt the first bubbling of panic welling up in him at these words- this was CERTAINLY not a normal occurance. "Madam Pomfrey, what's wrong?"

"Can you do it?" She repeated intensely. Her eyes bored into his, and he nodded. "Good," she said.

Harry watched her wake Hermione, whose face was bandaged on the left side, and looked damp with something of a vaguely lilac color. "Madam Pomfrey?"

"One second, please, Mister Potter." She repeated her questions to Hermione, who after a moment gave her assent as well. Turning to the door, she said, "If that door turns purple, then regardless of what you are doing or where I am at that particular instant, you will both immediately go in my office, and floo to Haydn Hall."

"Hiding Hole? Where's that?" Harry asked.

"What's floo?" Asked Hermione.

"Oh dear. Harry, are you familiar with the floo network?" Madam Pomfrey asked, tense.

"Uh, I've done it before," Harry replied.

"Then you will take responsibility for Miss Granger if the need should arise. remember, Haydn Hall." Madam Pomfrey began to walk back to her office.

"Madam Pomfrey, what is going on?" Harry demanded, perhaps a bit more harshly than he'd intended.

Madam Pomfrey turned around, and anxiety lined her face. "The Headmaster and professors have cause to believe that someone that does not belong here has infiltrated the school."

* * *

Whoever the intruder was, the professors found neither hide nor hair. The school was in a state of high tension for several days, with all students required to be in the presence of a professor or prefect at all times, the houses moving as a group from class to class, and generally cumbersome and tedious means by which to ensure everyone would be as safe as possible, which in Harry's private opinion, wasn't much safer than they already were with business as usual. But nobody asked his opinion, and he was loathe to offer it, and after several days of no further incident, precautions relaxed a bit. Harry DID notice that at any given time he looked around, he could count on seeing a prefect in line of sight if not a full professor even after everything had cooled off a bit.

It was around this point that everyone seemed to realize that the quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw had been delayed in all the fuss, and as a result that afternoon the postponed match was held. Harry found himself suddenly with an afternoon off from the usual detention-study group as Professor Snape was seeing to the team during the game, and his technical duration for detentions was over anyways, making the study assembly technically voluntary. Harry decided that matters were best handled by spending the newly available time in the library, given that from what little he'd heard of the game it was a more ridiculous set up than American football. He'd spent the first game between Slytherin and Gryffindor in detention, and found that it was agreeable to him. Now that he was finally done with detentions, he had no wish to see the latest match.

Harry's presence there during the quidditch match seemed to impress the librarian, Irma Pince, and she went out of her way to be helpful to Harry. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Irma nod to the prefect who'd been following him from the Slytherin common room, who nodded back to her, then departed for destinations unknown but presumably in the vicinity of the pitch.

Harry had no idea what he was looking for- close association with Hermione in particular and the study group in general had given Harry a here-to-fore undiscovered love for books, and the many things they carried within, and Harry felt a seizing moment of indecision as to what he wanted to look up. Madam Pince seemed to be amused at this, and said something to him that he didn't quite catch in his distraction, before going back to her desk and watching him from there.

He spent a few moments agonizing over the possibilities, before he recalled two days before Neville showing off proudly the new wand he'd gotten from Olivander's that weekend. Apparently, McGonnagal had gotten wind of the fact that he was using his father's old wand, and also that the tool was a horrendously poor match for the young Gryffindor. She'd immediately floo called Madam Longbottom and from what Harry could hear the pair of them had set a row that could be heard all the way in the Ravenclaw tower. But in the end, Augusta Longbottom had relented and taken Neville that very night to Olivander's to select a wand of his own.

Neville had been in awe at how responsive his new wand was, and Harry suspected that Neville's marks were going to shoot from respectable- which they were right now- all the way to rival those of Hermione and himself before much longer. Neville had even confessed that his Gran had paid him a compliment on his rescue of Hermione, something she'd never done in Neville's memory.

But it was that difference between wands that decided Harry on what he was going to look up. Turning back, he walked over to Madam Pince's desk and asked, "Do you have any books about wands?"

Madam Pince looked intrigued at this; she nodded, and led Harry to a shelf in the far back, pointing up about six feet. "That's where wand studies and crafting may be found. They aren't particularly sought after by most students, especially not first years, as many are content to have a wand without considering WHY they have one or how it is made."

Harry smiled his thanks, and set about climbing the ladder which had positioned itself conveniently for Harry to reach the aforementioned shelf. There were a dozen or more books, and Harry selected one entitled, "Progress: the Transition from Staff to Besom to Wand," and another entitled, "The Anatomy of the Wand."

Over the next few hours, Harry dived into the books. The first book painted a facinating tale of earliest wizards whose arts were separated from those of witches, simply by virtue of wildly differing traditions. Harry was startled to learn that the first flying brooms were invented by witches, and were a multi purpose tool intended for focusing many types of magic. Called Besoms, the tools were used for simple warding, charms, flying, rituals, and occasionally hexes, whereas many more combat oriented but low utility spells were designed by staff using wizards. Staves were excellent focal tools for direct effects but lacked the subtlety of the Besom, due to the Besom's composite nature. Where most of the imbuement in a staff was found in the wood of the tool, it was the secondary parts of a Besom that enabled more elaborate and less power intensive uses such as the type of straw and bindings. Through the study of both by early arithmancers, a compromise of the direct effect and raw power of the staff could be combined with the versatility and utility of the Besom to craft the first wands.

The second book gave Harry furiously to think. Any number of factors went into the final product of a wand, but its construction fell to a few materials: The wood of the wand, the material of its core, and a catalyst, which bound the wood and core together into a whole by means of serving as an interface between them, creating a tool that was far greater than the sum of its parts. Harry gave some thought to this, and realized he still had a good bit of money left from the trip to Gringotts before the school year had begun. He took out a quill and some parchment and quickly scribbled out a letter to Olivander. The nib of the quill caught momentarily as his was finishing up, sending a few irritating spatters of ink across the page. Harry found himself oddly pleased that he hadn't put more effort into making the penmanship especially fancy.

Harry stood up, and asked if he could borrow "The Anatomy of the Wand" from the library; Madam Pince smiled and affirmed that he could. As he made to leave, Madam pince called out, "One second, Mister Potter."

Harry halted, looking back at her, as she went about the business of closing up the library. At Harry's questioning glance, she replied, "It doesn't appear that the Quidditch game will be over for several more hours, so I don't anticipate any students coming to the library, and the Headmaster insisted that you not be left alone."

Harry frowned slightly, but he couldn't exactly say it was unexpected. Together, the two of them went to the owlery, where Harry perused the gathered avians for some sign of Hedwig. Within seconds, she was already flying down, slowing her descent to alight on one of the lower perches, where she sat and stared at Harry reproachfully. "I'm sorry, girl," Harry said, stroking Hedwig's neck gently with a couple fingers. "I haven't been paying enough attention to you. Could I ask you to do me a favor?"

Hedwig barked, hopping forward. Harry smiled at her. "Thank you, Hedwig. Stop by during breakfast in the great hall and I'll make sure to save some bacon for you. Please take this letter the Mister Olivander, alright? And stay warm!"

Hedwig barked again, and dutifully held out her left claw, into which Harry pressed the rolled parchment. Hedwig took off without delay, and in moments was out of line of sight.

Harry turned back to the entrance to the owlery only to rediscover that Madam Pince was still there, watching him in silent bemusement. "May I ask why you are so fascinated by wands, Mister Potter?" She asked.

Harry shrugged, scratching at his chin at a tickle, only to see a downy owl feather clinging to his finger tips as he pulled them away. It was a grey feather, so obviously not one of Hedwig's. Harry shook his hand and watched the feather drift off to the floor. "Don't really know, it just struck me as odd, is all. They're amazing, and each one is different from all the others. Mister Olivander said the wand chooses the witch or wizard, so that means they're at least somewhat aware, aren't they? I just wanted to learn more about them."

Madam Pince smiled again. "Perhaps we should return to the library, Mister Potter, where you're in less danger of becoming the stuffing of a particularly owl like pillow."

Harry grinned, flinching back from another feather drifting past his glasses, and followed Madam Pince out of the owlery.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast Marcus Flint was boasting of their win the previous evening, along with a bandaged hand from frostbite. The hand seemed to bother him not at all, and he gestured wildly with almost vicious glee as he described knocking the Ravenclaw seeker from her broom with a body check. Harry frowned a bit as he heard Flint describe the clearly broken arm of the Ravenclaw seeker- she'd apparently tried to stay in the game but her head of house had put the kibosh on that, instead sending her off to Pomfrey's and leaving the team with their reserve seeker. The reserve seeker had been timid and not nearly so sure on his broom, and the game had finally finished as Terrence Higgs had caught the snitch late in the night, ending the game at 330-60 for Slytherin House.

Blaise chose this moment to pipe in with, "At this rate, we might even win the house cup in spite of the half blood and his merry band of point deductions."

Harry directed a blank stare at Blaise, who returned it for a few moments before breaking eye contact. Harry set aside a couple of rashers of bacon for Hedwig when she finally arrived. At the stern look he received from the professors' table, Harry sighed, and added a second helping of eggs, fried tomatos, and fried mushrooms. He hoped that Olivander had sent a response.

Harry wasn't disappointed. As the morning mail arrived, Hedwig flew in proudly clutching a rolled up bit of parchment.

"Love letters from your muggle relatives, Potter?" Malfoy asked nastily, retrieving his own care package from home from a slate grey owl whose general demeanor seemed to indicate it would rather be anywhere but here. As soon as it was relieved of its burden, it took wing again, carrying itself away at top available speed.

"Love letters?" Harry said, arching an eyebrow. "As far as I know, there's been no such relations between blood relatives in my family. Are things different in your family?" Harry had couched it as innocently as he could manage, but Draco's immediate glare told him the barb hit home. Harry shot a glance in the direction of the professors' table again, and smiled. The rest of the table was looking around expectantly- the last time there'd been an exchange like this, it had ended in detention for both Malfoy and Harry. As neither boy said anything further, Snape's expected admonishment never came. Harry contented himself with getting the last word as Hedwige cheerfully tore apart and devoured the pair of reserved rashers one at a time.

With only one day left before the winter break, it was safe to say that most of the students were distracted by the upcoming break, and the staff as well seemed distracted, although perhaps more by the recent disturbance than by the break. On the way to the final potions class before break, Harry caught the tail end of something Ronald Weasley was saying to a Gryffindor girl Harry didn't recognize.

"-you that it all makes sense! Hagrid was saying that it was a matter between the Headmaster and Nicolas Flamel, and that students didn't need to worry about it-"

"Look, Weasley, I don't know why you're pestering me with all this. I could care less about the hallway or anything else to do with Flamel or giant dogs-"

"You're the one what wants to be an Auror, aren't you Fay?" Ron said, when the girl whirled on him.

"I'll thank you to refer to me as Miss Dunbar, as we are not on such personal terms as for you to address me otherwise. IF, that is, you have anything to say to me of interest, which it is readily apparent that you do not!" She snapped, before turning sharply and slamming her open palm into the class door and taking a seat as far from Ron Weasley's normal spot as she could manage.

Harry walked on past making no expression indicating he'd heard what the two had been talking about, instead taking his usual seat and pulling out his parchment, quill, and ink. He immediately wrote down "Nicolas Flamel" and "Dumbledore" before tearing away the top of the sheet and stuffing it back into his pack. Hermione entered the room next, head down and jaw set. As she sat down, Harry could see the faint marks left from the prank- from what Hermione'd said, Madam Pomfrey claimed that the marks would fade to invisibility over the next few weeks, but Hermione seemed to want to hide her face. Harry felt at a loss as to what he should do- he settled for grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze. She favored him with a grateful smile before getting out her own note taking supplies, and Harry hoped that it had helped.

As the rest of the class trickled in Harry pondered on the name Nicolas Flamel.

* * *

It was an empty Slytherin common room that greeted Harry that Saturday. Of all the house, only he had stayed behind from the boys, even among the upper years. The only girls to stay behind were a fifth year that studiously avoided any conversation attempts Harry made, even to get her name, and the unaligned Tracy Davis. Harry had no idea what to say to Miss Davis, and it appeared that she was content to relegate any interactions between them to the distantly polite sort, the kind that found discussing the weather to be an intrusive bore.

Harry felt dreadfully isolated and alone.

An even worse bit of news was available to him: of Gryffindor, Ron Weasely had to be one of those who stayed behind. And what was more awful, the Weasely boy had incomprehensibly decided to populate the library during the vacation. Considering the boy's innate avoidance of anything resembling work in his academics, Harry was mystified as to why he'd decide to spend the bulk of his days in the library. Morosely, he wondered for a time if it was simply to annoy Harry, but Harry made a practice of leaving the library whenever the Weasely boy arrived.

This left Harry with a surprising amount of time to wander and explore. And so, while he was exploring the fifth floor, he wandered past a classroom that was absolutely unimportant, he should ignore it and move along-

Harry drew up short. That was an odd sensation.

He walked toward the door, close this time than he'd passed it before- but no, this was silly, he had more important things to be doing, like seeing if the library was Weasely free yet, and-

Harry shook off the sensation, his curiosity well and truly piqued. As he reached for the door, he felt it try to shoo him off again, but he firmly shoved the intruding compulsion to go somewhere, anywhere but her, and turned the doorlatch.

The sensation ended almost as though someone had thrown a switch on it, and he walked through the door.

Whatever he'd been expecting, it was certainly something more interesting than this.

The room was clearly an unused classroom, although he'd no clue as to what the class was when it was in use. Desks and chairs were neatly stacked by the walls, and about the only thing of note in the room was some sort of framed object standing on clawed legs and stretching nearly to the ceiling.

Drawing closer to it, Harry could see that the gilded edges of the object were intricately beveled and carved- elaborately so. Walking around to see the other side of it revealed to Harry the oddest thing: It was a mirror.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafruoyt on wohsi._

Odd. Harry wondered briefly what language that was written in. He was still carrying his pack from his earlier study in the library, and he wrote it down, intending to look it up later. Still, from this angle, he could see that the glass was slightly wavy- something like a funhouse mirror was, from all he'd heard. On a lark, he decided to get a look at himself in the mirror and see how it changed him.

His heart leaped into his throat and he gave a small shout, whipping around to see who'd come up behind him.

There was nobody there- the room was empty.

He turned back- and got a good long look.

There were, including himself, some dozen people reflected in the mirror. A beautiful woman, with eyes the same shade of green as his own, and a tall, skinny man with hair as unkempt and dark as Harry's. An old man, with knees as knobby as Harry's, several kids younger than himself, and more, and Harry realized with a sudden start that this was his family. His mother, and his father, and brothers and sisters and grandfather and-

Harry shuddered, and ran to the door, shaking. It felt like a trap- something getting ready to offer him everything he wanted, what he desired more than anything in the worl-

Desired. Harry fairly near tore his bag open and pulled out the sheet of parchment he'd written on. Erised...

Underneath it, he wrote the letters in reverse: Desire.

Starting from the end of the string of words, he wrote all of the letters in reverse. Silly of him, he should have seen it from the start- it's a mirror, of course it would be written backwards.

_Ishow no tyourfac ebu tyo urhe arts desire. _

_I show not your face but your hearts desire. _

His heart aching in his chest, Harry stood at the door for a long minute, staring back in the direction of the mirror. Family. It had known what he wanted more than anything and it had shown it to him.

Harry felt himself wavering- he wanted to go back, longed to look at their faces, hear their voices, hug them, hold them, have people who loved him-

And he'd never have it. He could easily see himself standing in front of that mirror, like a man dying of thirst in the desert, chasing after a mirage but only running deeper into the barren sands...

He whirled and started out the door- only to run into a white bearded figure in gaudy robes.

"Ha- Headmaster! I'm sorry, I was just leaving-"

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly. "It's quite alright. I am curious, though, as to how you found this room. It was warded quite thoroughly."

Harry blushed, and looked away. "Uh, it was trying too hard to not be noticed when I passed by it."

"Heh." Dumbledore gave a single chuckle, and shook his head. "Yes, I imagine that with the will power to resist such things, one might be drawn to find what it hides. I am even more curious, as to why you would only look once, then walk away. Did you see nothing?"

Harry shook his head. "I saw- I saw my family. Brothers, sisters, mom, dad, grans- a family."

Dumbledore's eyes softened, and for the first time since Harry had seen him, there was almost a look of understanding in the headmaster's eyes. "And you could look away from them after just one glance?"

"It's poison. It's an illusion. I can't have it, I can't have people that love me, and there's no point in sitting here wanting for something I'll never have." Harry suddenly felt the need to leave, to get out, to run away from here and never come back. "I have to go. I need to go." Harry started to push past the headmaster, but Dumbledore set his hand on Harry's shoulder, stopping him in place.

"Why do you suppose that-" the headmaster began, then cut himself off. After a moment of something warring in the headmaster's eyes, he seemed to deflate. "Go ahead, Harry. Enjoy your holiday."

Harry started to go, then stopped again, as he saw the headmaster wasn't looking at him, but instead into the room. "Headmaster... have you looked into the mirror?"

Dumbledore turned his head to face Harry, and his eyes showed a grief, immense and deep and wide and heavier than Atlas's burden. "Yes. I have."

"What did you see?"

The headmaster didn't answer for a long minute, and Harry had almost convinced himself that Dumbledore wouldn't respond at all, when he finally answered, "A long series of mistakes..."

Harry waited, but Dumbledore didn't add to the statement. Instead, he took one last look into the classroom, before firmly shutting the door and closing the latch.

Harry turned away and began walking back to the library. Even exposure to Weasely had to be better than the temptation of that cursed pane of silvered glass for even one minute longer.

* * *

The Christmas feast was lonely. Even though he was supposed to be eating far more than he wanted, courtesy the orders of Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey, Harry only picked at the maginficent feast laid out. All of the remaining students were seated at a single table, and yet Harry didn't have communications with any of them. Those that remained talked with one another around him.

The only student that remained behind who he'd ever spoken to in a friendly fashion was Percy, the Gryffindor prefect. He was seated next to two boys with equally red hair and priominent freckles who were clearly twins, and Ron Weasely. It was pretty obvious that they were all related. Harry briefly considered going over and speaking to Percy, but Ron's presence was enough to sour him on that idea. Instead, Harry picked at his food, until the feast was winding down and he had an excuse to leave without drawing attention to himself.

Harry went to bed early, wondering if the Dursleys would bother to write back to him. His dreams were filled with empty rooms and labyrinthine, darklit hallways, and he was trying to find the door that led to the outside, but each door only led to another empty room.

The next morning Harry was surprised to see a single, brown paper wrapped package at the foot of his bed. On it were scrawled the words, "to Harry, from Hagrid." Harry smiled widely, and opened it, to reveal a rough cut wooden flute. Hagrid had clearly whittled it himself, and Harry felt a stab of gratitude for the effort it must have taken him, especially with hands the size of Hagrid's. Taking an experimental blow on it, Harry noted it sounded vaguely like an owl, and resolved himself to learn how to play it. Looking to the side, he saw that the package had hidden a small envelope- Harry picked it up, and opened it.

Within was a letter:

_You filthy freak! How dare you set the bobbies on us with your lies and then write a merry yule to us as though we were family? You're no family of ours, and you're not welcome in our house. _

_Petunia's sister had no son- you're dead to us and will never set foot in our home again as long as you live!_

The letter was unsigned but Harry felt it needed no signature. He felt anger and misery competing for dominance as he reread the contents of the letter, before crumpling it up and hurling it against the wall. All the good feeling from Hagrid's present had shrivelled up in the face of Vernon's letter, and Harry felt the urge to scream. But long practice these few months had taught Harry to conceal what he was feeling and he bottled it up and tucked it away until he was able to calm himself again.

Damn the Dursleys anyways. They didn't want him around? Not news to him. So that was fine by him- he didn't want to be around them either.

He didn't need them. He was a wizard.

* * *

End Chapter Six

* * *

AN: Yeah, so that letter? Nothing like the "50 pence merry christmas sucker" of the original. And there's a reason for it, pretty obvious in my eyes, but if you don't see it, the full reveal will be posted in a later chapter.

Ja mata.

-AXENOME


End file.
